


Smothered Desires

by Avaya



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, Sexual Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avaya/pseuds/Avaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repressed feelings brought to light disgust Clark Kent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just A Jape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman is 'teased' by Batman.

_**~*~*~Watchtower Meditation Room...~*~*~** _

“Clark.”

Superman turned from gazing at the vast expansion of space shimmering with stars to take in the hulking figure next to him. He hadn’t heard him approach or even the doors of the Meditation Room whoosh open. But Bruce Wayne is always a welcome presence, whether he manifested as the Batman or the charming seducer.

“Bat—Bruce! How can I help you?”

When nothing came forth, he quirked his head in his direction, glimmering sapphires intent on the black clad form. A waft of luxurious cologne hit his nose and he found himself leaning towards the nape of Batman’s neck to take in more of the heavenly aroma. It mingled with his natural scent, making a tantalizing concoction.

“You smell nice. You always do.”

As he pulled back, he noticed Batman’s taut jaw. He cleared his throat, nonverbally apologizing for his intrusion into his personal space. They both knew that it would undoubtedly happen again though. And Batman would forgive him.

“I thought you left.”

Silence is Batman’s constant companion, one that Superman enjoys occasionally. Times like these had him wishing that he refrained from lining his cowl with lead. Batman only faced straight ahead, everything about him unreadable.

 _Maybe he likes to stare out into the Universe after a hard day too._ Superman thought, shifting his gaze back. He couldn’t focus on the ethereal cosmos though. The reflection of a vibrant-colored grinning Kryptonian contrasting with a shadowy somber pointy-eared six foot four bat obstructed the view, captivating his attention.

A sharp intake of breath made him peer out of his peripheral vision, but he ensured his head remained still. Apparently, Batman would only react if Superman’s eyes weren’t on him.

A rapid heartbeat drummed in his ears. Either Batman found other galaxies as breathtakingly marvelous as Superman or anxiety wrangled his colleague.

“I wanted to know if you’d like to go to dinner.”

A smile graced his face as he chuckled. Oh. He got it. Bruce usually asked him to dinner—never the Batman. It must be embarrassing. He stifled the laugh as he recognized the beginning of a scowl.

“Sure, Bruce! You know I love Alfred’s cooking.”

“In a restaurant.”

“Oh! I heard about a great place in Little Italy that Dick would—”

“Not with my children.”

“In that case, there’s an All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet—”

“On a date.”

“Oh, Rao. Is this another of those Win-A-Date with Superman contests?”

“With _me_.”

The last word is growled out.

Superman’s good humor drained away. Crystal-blue eyes widened and his mouth slightly parted as speech failed him. Nervousness fluttered through him as he tongued his lips gently.

 “Uh...”

This situation is unexpected. He loved Batman true, but only as a best friend and confidant. Not as a _lover_. He isn’t even attracted to men.

That didn’t mean that Superman couldn’t wholeheartedly admit that Batman is suave and handsome beneath the kevlar. He is more interesting to converse with than the majority of people Clark Kent came into contact. His passionate ideals touched Superman deeply and he adored his amazing parental abilities. But he didn’t feel the slightest of any sexual or romantic interest in him.

The notion made him blush fiercely and his pulse to quicken. Not as if he had actually _thought_ about Batman or the billionaire in that way to find out if it was true. Perhaps he should acquiesce. If they went out together, Superman could construe it as a journalist from the Daily Planet getting an exclusive from Bruce Wayne. As long as it elated Batman, it would be worth the misperception.

Only it would be dishonest not to mention inadvisable. And the thought of familiarizing himself with Bruce intimately…distressed him.

“Umm…”

He tried not to fidget under the obvious severe gaze. Batman turned to him, his mouth set in a thin line. Superman couldn’t discern anything from the man except that his heartrate increased and the fact that Batman held his breath. Or is that him?

What made Batman ask him this anyway? The man is never short of beautiful women adorning his arms and body whenever he graced the tabloids. Superman hadn’t ever seen Bruce out with a man amorously. Wouldn’t being seen with a man muddy his image? There were plenty of bigoted wealthy individuals who would withdraw funding from Wayne Corporations if they knew Bruce liked popsicles as well as pudding. Is Bruce even interested in men?

A sudden thought popped into his head.

“Wait. Does this have anything to do with the mission that I had Hal and you go on?” His discomfort lifted as he found the reason for Bruce’s odd question. “I guess you two got along well if _you’re_ teasing me as payback. I just wanted you two to get along.”

At the time, the absence of the Dark Knight permeated strongly within Superman. He worriedly expected hourly updates on their progress which may have slightly impeded on the mission. Those two had been consistently at the other’s throat before their trip to the Andromeda Galaxy. The duo were bickering light-heartedly when they returned. Superman had smiled warmly at them before embracing Batman, whispering that he was glad he was safe. To his delight, Batman had silently reciprocated though it appeared that the hands on his waist meant to push him away.

Since then, Superman noticed that Green Lantern’s attitude towards Batman had brightened, mainly due to Batman’s proximity. It wasn’t a surprise—Batman in his sullen mannered way brought out the best—and sometimes worst—in everyone. His earned respect is treasured. Perhaps he had praised Lantern which made the hero seek his approval more often.

Batman’s still form didn’t respond for a few seconds too long making Superman believe he may have misread the situation. Then a strained smirk appeared.

“I told you I’d get you back.”

He let out a relieved sigh, remembering the threat muttered in passing as he headed towards the hangar before joining Green Lantern aboard the Javelin. “You did. Rao, I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life.” He snickered, failing to notice the lessening grin as he stared back into the twinkling darkness. “It was worse than when I could see through people’s clothes for the first time.”

“Right.” Batman responded terse, twisting around which caused his cape to brush against Superman’s suit. “My apologies. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like you were serious, Bru—”

Superman started only to notice that he spoke into an empty room.


	2. Emotional Upset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark sees something that he prefers he didn't and doesn't know how to deal.

_**~*~*~Wayne Manor Ballroom: Lots of Tots Benefit: One Week Later~*~*~** _

Clark amended his former statement. _This_ is the most uncomfortable he had ever been. And Clark  _really_ didn’t want to witness it any longer. He’d rather deal with Metallo than be where he stood at the moment. Or encapsulated in a vat of liquid Kryptonite. Just _anywhere_ but here.

In hindsight, he chided himself for also being right. Their relationship progressed rather well. Though now, he wondered if they bonded a little _too_ much during the mission.

He tried to even out his breathing, the tightening sensation in his chest spreading. The thin glass of rose champagne he held threatened to snap underneath his right pointer and thumb. Adjusting his black wire-framed glasses was a challenge, because he _really_ didn’t want to have a better view. Thank Rao that he didn’t sweat or his new grey tailored suit would be drenched.

Lois Lane posed next to him, chattering about affluent guests who currently sashayed around the ballroom of Wayne Manor. Her lustrous raven hair swept into an elegant chignon while wearing a body hugging ruby dress should have been enough to deter his attention.

Or Lex Luthor meandering among the wealthy for potential investors in what was sure to be his latest scheme.

Even Selina Kyle who had a large contingent of men surrounding her—not just because she is a stunning woman, but simply because he could _smell_ her enticing scent. She had chosen to _not_  put on undergarments.

But of course not. His focus is down the hall and to the left. A simple guest room readily apparent in his penetrative vision. Not to mention two robust naked men in the pursuit of emphatically fucking each other’s brains out. One repeatedly called out the other’s name.

 _Loudly_.

The ebony haired man quickly thrust himself into the quivering brunette who let out an obnoxious cry each time. His hands gripped the man’s hips, pulling him onto his cock as he pushed in the same motion. He tilted his head back, mouth slack as moans slipped from him, eyes closed as he breathed heavily. A beautiful work of art presented himself as the beaut: hair out of place, intricate scars decorating his body, and his thick cock slick with—Lube? Saliva? Pre-cum?—sliding gracefully between two round cheeks.

The gathering began at eight sharp. The host made his rounds to those witnessing rare pieces of art from his vault, proceeds going to the charitable organization _Lots of Tots_ to help abandoned and fostered children.  His faux half-smile smeared on his face whenever he wavered in a group, drink in hand that he tipped to his lips but never drank from since it held the same amount of liquid. Clark had made sure to slip into the halls whenever the host neared him. He didn’t know why he shrunk away from him. Perhaps because he had been _ignored_ for the past week by someone that he cared for a great deal and he didn’t know what would happen when or if they met as their personas. It would be just as agonizing to be disregarded in this form.

Clark watched Lois search for him frantically while attempting to engage Bruce Wayne, but ironically, he didn’t have the strength to go in. It wasn’t until he subtly slipped out at a quarter past nine that Clark headed towards an irate Lois who scolded him for his disappearing act.

“Now I have no idea where he’s even gone.” She huffed, rouge cheeks flushed with anger. “Tell me if you see him.”

Clark didn’t wish to intrude on what Bruce may be doing but after thirty minutes, it seemed imperative. When he sharpened his concentration on that familiar pulse, he found another racing next to it. He came upon the scene when he narrowed his vision to see through walls. His mind blanked and he felt numb, unable to comprehend it.

His first thought that occurred when he _could_ think was that he erred: Bruce apparently is _very_ captivated by men. Or perhaps a certain type of man.

His second was coupled with a sinking sensation: maybe Bruce _had_ been serious when he had asked.

His third reaction was strange: a fiery burst of simmering rage entwined with hurt and _envy_.

Clenching his teeth, Clark trembled slightly. He brought the Steuben glass to his lips but did not sip. To be frank, Clark knew why anger enveloped him. To be neglected without reason would infuriate and insult anyone. Not to mention the frequent attempts he made to contact Bruce being steadfastly bypassed.

After Bruce’s abrupt egress last week, he thought the two of them would return to their usual camaraderie. Yet Bruce hadn’t been in the Bat Cave when Clark visited at his usual time every day. He knew that Alfred Pennyworth had relayed every single one of his messages even though both gentlemen knew that Clark could see Bruce in his study. His unfortunate cancellation by text—due to a deadline he _could not_ miss—of their usual Sunday night dinners at Wayne Manor received no response. Batman gave him brusque retorts. He had even seen the man he is currently screwing noisily berating him in the middle of the Watchtower. Batman had stalked off without a word after Superman sought to intervene.

“I fucking _hate_ that guy.” Green Lantern had said, incensed eyes burning a hole in Batman’s retreating back.

Clark willed his eyes closed but they refused, enraptured and enraged at the scene unfolding before him.

“ _Oh fuck, yes Bruce! Harder, baby. Harder!”_

That didn’t sound like hate to him.

Hal Jordan moaned into the sheets, a set of fingers curled in them. The other pumped himself furiously while his ass rolled back to smack against Bruce’s balls.  He arched whenever Bruce penetrated a particular spot. Cocoa eyes infused with lust peered up at Bruce over a sweaty shoulder. Soft moans left Bruce’s lips as he leaned over Hal, biting along his back.

This is what Clark didn’t comprehend. He felt _jealous_ of Hal in this encounter. Not of the man in general—but just the fact that _Bruce_ chose to involve himself sexually with Hal. It troubled him, because why should he care about Hal being dominated by Bruce? Did it unnerve him that Hal more than likely received Bruce’s attention over the past week, time usually reserved for Clark? Or that Hal would be able to inhale Bruce’s scent as much as he wanted when Clark would be scowled at for doing so?

“Lois.” His dry mouth would not be satisfied with his inadequate attempt to produce saliva. He strived not to belie the seething fury and pain in his tone. “We should go.”

“Now?” She frowned up at him. “We need a quote from Bruce Wayne.  Where _is_ he?”

_Balls deep in a team member that a month ago he told me he had no interest in kindling a friendship with._

“It doesn’t seem like he’ll be coming back. We’ve been waiting for forty minutes.” He rasped out.

“True. But Perry won’t be pleased if every other news outlet has a line from the Prince of Gotham and we don’t.”

Clark could feel that the tenuous thread which represented his control was soon to break. He took a slow gulp of sweet champagne to wet his tongue, attempting to recall something that would relax him. The search is arduous and empty since he realized that he ever truly reposed around Bruce.

Thinking of….

They were messily taking each other’s mouths now. Both tongues sought the other out, tangoing lewdly. Bruce slid a hand beneath Hal to take hold of him and stroke him. He ran his thumb across the head making his copper-haired lover shiver. Hal was now free to twist fingers into dark locks. Holding Bruce to him, the kiss intensified hungrily.

Clark finished his drink and replaced it with another from a passing waiter. Alcohol didn’t affect him and for the thousandth time that night, he wondered briefly if it is a pleasure or a curse. Either way, it would be bizarre if he were to act out more so than usual.

“Clark, are you okay?” Concerned eyes were on him. He assessed himself quickly and realized that he had been oddly quiet. “I asked you a question and you blanked out.”

“Yeah. It’s—I’m trying to find someone we _haven’t_ talked to in case if Bruce Wayne doesn’t make a reappearance.” Though a tremendous effort, he managed to drag his sky blues over towards Lois. “Just in case.”

She nodded. “Okay. I hate to do this, but I think I see an opening for Selina Kyle. I’ll go and ask her if she’s seen where the playboy went off to.”

“Probably off to play.” It tumbled from his mouth more bitterly than he meant.

Lois laughed, touching his forearm. “With _who_? It’s rumored that those two are playmates. There’s no one else that even compares to her.”

“You do.” Clark smiled timidly, having unwittingly turned back to the spectacle he could only see.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Hal let out a sharp cry, spilling into Bruce’s hands. Bruce jerked him through it, letting his cum splatter across the bedspread, on Hal’s abdomen, and over his hand. Swiping fingers along the mess, Hal brought a finger towards Bruce’s mouth. He closed his lips over them, sucking greedily. Dropping Hal’s cock so that it flopped against the mattress, Bruce fed him his own spunk-covered fingers.

Watching Hal moan around his fingers made the older man growl and chase after his own pleasure.  His head rested against Hal’s back, fingers digging into his hips. The swollen length eagerly dove in and remorsefully hauled itself out before happily ramming in again.  

Lois returned his smile though he didn’t see it. “Thanks, Smallville. But I don’t hold a candle to her and I’m woman enough to admit it without any jealousy. Be back in a bit.”

“ _Oh God, Bruce.”_

Bruce grasped Hal’s shoulders to roughly pull him against his chest. He captured his mouth again, readily tasting himself on Hal’s tongue. He shoved himself inside hard. A hand returned to jerk off Hal’s half-hard cock, eliciting lecherous moans from the younger man. His hips snapped back as much as it could, though Bruce’s hold on him didn’t let him move as much as he wanted.

“ _Come on, baby._ ” Hal whispered against his lips. “ _I know you’re close. Fill me up._ ”

His balls twitched as he continued to upwardly thrust into Hal. A guttural sound ripped from him as his eyes fluttered close. Hal’s tousled head fell back onto Bruce’s shoulder, moaning _Fuck yes_ with wild abandon. Cum trickled along his shaft as withdrew in and out of Hal, droplets raining onto the sheets below them.

“Hal.” was exhaled almost gently.

_Snap!_

He heard the stem of the flute break and nearly used his super speed to keep the champagne-rich bowl from shattering into pieces on the floor. Too risky due to Luthor being near and he had to act normal. Moreover, the perfect metaphor of how he felt _were_ the scattered shards, liquid splayed out like the blood of a gunshot wound.

“Clark!” He faintly heard Lois call to him and noticed that people were staring at him, some with exasperated looks.  She approached him, reaching out for his hand. “Are you okay?”

Why wouldn’t he be? He was—oh!

Immediately, he covered his supposedly injured hand with the other. He needed to leave before someone noticed that no blood trickled down his hand. Heading towards the exit, he heard a pair of determined heels behind him.

“Fine.” He mumbled, the pain in his voice authentic but for a wholly separate reason. He bumbled apologies as he got around the patrons, ensuring that he didn’t bump into anyone. Swiftly, he covered his hand with his jacket as he walked into a grand hallway. “Just an accident. I think I saw Mr. Wayne near the chocolate fountain.”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but screw him. I want to make sure you’re fine. That looked pretty awful. Not to mention that you’re still holding onto broken glass and you’re _crying_.”

 _What_?

Tentatively, he brushed fingers across his face, staring at them dumbly as they came away wet. When did that happen? Lois walked into his field of vision.

“Clark, what’s wrong? Did it hurt that badly?” She regarded his covered hand.

Clark needed to get her away from him as he used his transparent vision to look for a bathroom. He desired to be alone to sort out the wreck he was fast becoming. Finding one down the hall, he briskly set out for it with Lois a few steps behind.

Pointedly bypassing the fact that tears streamed down his face, he retorted. “Lois, _one_ of us needs to get that line from him and I’m in no position to write since I injured my hand. You’re less likely to bleed over his expensive suit and more likely to put up with his melodramatics.”

“Selina told me that he usually goes off with a number of people during the night. Or he usually has someone waiting for him in bed during parties like this when he gets too bored. He takes a time out and then comes back re-energized. Absolutely repulsive to do something like that during a charity event.”

 _I agree._ He thought, heart twisting as he forced as he steadied his voice.

“She _told_ you?”

“Okay. She said that’s what she _heard_.  And she wouldn’t say if that’s what she did with him. So who knows when he’ll come back?”

“It’s unlike you to _not_ hunt him down and find out yourself. You’re a pure bred blood-hound.” He joked though his heart wasn’t in it. Approaching the door, he opened it and slipped in.

“Clark, stop trying to deflect—”

She was cut off with the door slamming and locking into her face. Clark could see her, staring at the locked door stunned before her face contorted with rage.

“What the _fuck_ , Clark?!”

Heart hammering, he felt supremely guilty for such a rude act that would not be forgiven so easily. But unfortunately, it was necessary.

“Sorry, Lois.” He stammered out. Uncurling his fist, he began to remove the fragments of flute embedded in his hand. He wished it hurt—it would distract him from his current unrest. “It’s the only way to get you to go after Mr. Wayne. I can take care of myself.”

A loud commotion floated to them and they both turned their heads towards the ballroom. Bruce had reappeared, looking reinvigorated with his hair impeccable, Armani suit wrinkle free, and relaxed gait. This, though, is _not_ a façade. Clark knew that if he smelled him, he would reek of sweat and another man’s musk.

A quick look at the offending room showed an unabashedly sated Hal resting on the bed, slipping into a light doze. His legs spread gave a perfect view of Bruce’s cum crawling from his center to puddle beneath him. Apparently, Bruce invited him to spend the evening in pursuit of future nightly activities.

His fist clenched and he heard a crunching noise. Unfolding his fingers revealed that he grounded the glass to dust. Gritting his teeth enabled him to stifle a pained whine. His stomach flipped in as if he were about to heave. His eyes stung with renewed tears that shed.

 _Why_  is he so affected by this?

Lois shot a glare at the door. “Alright, Clark. I’m going to corner Bruce Wayne. I think he just showed up. But don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

“Hey, Lois.” He saw her pause due to his shaky voice, but the look on her face stated that she wasn’t going to answer just to torture him. “If you’re out there, would you please keep from using my name in front of Mr. Wayne?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Why?”

 _I don’t want him to know that I potentially saw him_.

Clark didn’t understand it himself. They weren’t on speaking terms, but his love for his friend compelled him to protect Bruce from any type of humiliation.

“I just want you to take all the credit. It’s a little embarrassing to cut my hand by breaking his glass and have to explain that to him.” She paused for a few seconds as if she were about to speak. “I also don’t want Perry to get billed for a thousand dollar glass. Or hear about me crying.” He let out a self-deprecating snicker.

Lois sighed before nodding and continuing on her way.

As soon as she had returned to the ballroom and he knew that she had found the billionaire to engross him in conversation, he used his speed to leave Wayne Manor and the disturbing scene as fast as possible.


	3. Truths and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman and Batman converse, but it doesn't go as Superman hopes.

_**~*~*~Watchtower Conference Room...The Next Day~*~*~** _

Laboriously, Superman’s face remained impassive as he studiously peered at Batman’s presentation. Every member attentively listened, but Superman made an extra bit of effort: he assured that his eyes never fell on Batman. If he hadn’t been late, he would have commandeered the seat with a clear view of the expansion of blackness dotted with beacons of light. Unfortunately, his seat required his back to face it when reassurance was vital.

His situation is beyond desolate. He didn’t know what to do and felt at an utter loss, completely confused. Whenever he experienced such intense strife, he sought Bruce for solace. Now, he didn’t have him.

Who could he go to? His parents were gone. He didn’t want to plague League members with a conversation of a personal nature. Due to what happened last night and Clark ignoring her calls after he returned to his domicile, Lois wouldn’t be acknowledging his presence soon. Even if she did, if he wanted to converse with her about his adverse reactions, he would have to spill everything.

The torrent of emotions that warred within him which he had no hope to understand.

How each thrust of Bruce’s cock into Hal brought a fresh burst of agony that was worse than Kryptonite.

When Bruce whispered Hal’s name _longingly_ —as if he was the only person that he coveted—he felt abandoned.

And his revelation as Superman since he watched this through walls.

Clark didn’t want to unload on her like that. He only trusted Bruce to handle him delicately. It dawned on him then that Bruce Wayne is the only person he confided. Try as he might, no one else compared.

He blew out a distraught breath at the dismal fact. All eyes shifted towards him and a few chuckles disguised as coughs were made. Superman flushed pink, carefully dodging Batman’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to interrupt him.

He murmured an apology to which Green Lantern smirked. “No need. Spooky bored me, too.” Batman continued on, discounting the both of them. 

The searing pain in his chest returned. It seemed like a typical reaction from Batman to the other members, but Superman knew better. Batman usually demeaned the Lantern in some way for his sarcastic comments. He hadn’t. Furthermore, being on the receiving end of the silent treatment barred him from being privy to Bruce’s thoughts. His response told Superman that Batman’s displeasure still held. What had he done wrong?

Mulling over it in his mind, he decided to sift through what he _did_ know, permitting his investigative mind to take over.

Bruce ignored him. Why? He knew not. The only probable validation would be when Bruce jokingly asked to him dinner. Except if it _had_ been a joke, it wouldn’t have resulted in a negative backlash. Which meant that Bruce had been sincere when he had approached Clark. This is further substantiated by the fact that Bruce is indeed attracted to men, at least _sexually_. Would it be much of a stretch for him to be romantically interested as well?

Superman swallowed the lump in his throat.

Being the first to make amends would serve to remedy the situation. It would also clue Bruce in to the fact that Clark knew about his feelings towards him. Though Clark didn’t wish to give false hope: it isn't as if Clark wanted to be with Bruce. He didn’t want him to feel the sting of rejection.

 _If he still obtains feelings._ He thought, wincing at the memory of him laughing and telling Bruce how uncomfortable he had made him. Furthermore, Bruce now had...

Glittering ceruleans slid over towards where the Green Lantern lounged, ankles linked on the table with his hands clasped under his head. He caught his eye and winked.

It is beneficial to the League that the two of them were amicable. He didn’t regret pairing them off so that the two of them would learn that they worked exceptionally together. The fact that they are in-tune via their bodies as well didn’t bother him…

The corners of his lips edged down as his eyes narrowed.

Okay. It did. He couldn’t lie. But _why_? What they do in private is  _their_ business and Clark had no right to intrude. He also felt _zero_ interest in Bruce…

His chest clenched as he thought it and his brows furrowed. Intuition told him to examine it further but apprehension licked at his heart. He chose to peruse his current thoughts further than any possible emotions that could compromise this situation later.

So why did their liaisons bother him?

_Because I don’t get to see him as often._

That isn’t exactly fair though. He didn’t know when their trysts began and he isn’t privileged to such information. Bruce isn’t his property nor did he dictate with whom Bruce associated either.

It _is_ possible that he wouldn’t be able to see him as often in the future due to their budding relationship, but what did that matter when he didn’t visit Bruce _now_.

He let out a quiet rueful chuckle.

Maybe his circumstances would regress when he apologized.

He recognized the meeting adjourned as everyone rose from their seats. J’onn Jones gave him a pointed look to tell him that he knew that Superman hadn’t been paying attention. He looked away humbly before heading towards the infirmary.

Unluckily, he had work in a couple of hours. Due to the previous night’s fiasco, he needed to show up with an appropriately bandaged hand and deal with a furious Lois. He pondered if he could even speak to her though. A piercing void—called _loss_ —encompassed him, claws rooting into him the longer it resided. Whenever it occurred, his fixation was on it and Clark Kent’s production value fell dramatically. Superman, thankfully, detracted from it.

Entering the medical station, he scanned the room before heading to the back wall. He _used_ to have someone he could simply seek out when he dwelled in the discouraged state. An individual who sugar-coated nothing, didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear just soothe him, and easily made him laugh with nothing but his usual quips. Not anymore though.

 _Damn_ , it hurt.

Sighing heavily, he rummaged within the medical kit on the wall, seizing the gauze.

“Why do you need medical dressing?”

The imposing timbre is unexpected, but ultimately desired. Superman prided himself on not recoiling though his heart skipped a few beats. Closing the lid, he rounded to face Batman, hyperaware that he stood unnaturally close to him. He thought to avoid eye contact but that would make him seem more disingenuous. Instead he stared into the white lenses of Batman’s cowl.

Bruce’s enticing fragrance drifted to him. At least he didn’t smell like sex. Or Hal. He contemplated on what he would have done if he smelled like either or—Rao forbid—both?

“I cut—I mean _Clark_ cut himself.” He opened his mouth to say further before shutting it. He understood that he’d be burying himself if he gave explicit details and that would be a mistake in front of the World's Greatest Detective.

Superman could almost see the slight narrowing of eyes.

“On?”

“Something.” He teased with a small smile. Were they talking again at Bruce’s behest? If so, he needed to atone. Maybe then he wouldn’t think about Hal and Bruce. And they could be as they were before.

Batman glowered at him.

“Okay. I was having a late dinner and a knife slipped.” Superman offered lamely.

His lips pursed. “While you were alone.”

“Who said I was alone?”

“You inferred it.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” He said irritably. Expressing his remorse wouldn’t happen if Bruce treated him like one of the criminals he interrogated. “Anyway, I—”

“Then who were you with?”

“What?”

“Who. Were. You. With?” The enunciation of every word annoyed Superman further.

“Someone.”

“Who happens to be?”

“None of your business.” came the embittered reply.

The air filled with tension as they sized each other. Superman looked away first.

“So,” Batman began slowly. “While you were having a late dinner with someone who is none of my business, a knife slipped and cut you?”

Superman inhaled sharply, trying to figure out Batman’s angle. “I was distracted.”

“Distracted.”

“Yes.”

“By?”

“The aforementioned someone.”

“Who—?”

“Is none of your business.”

“I got that!” Batman bit out sharply, fists clenching as Superman’s eyes widened. He took a few seconds to control himself before advancing. “Who did _what_ to distract you?”

Superman didn’t like this. It was akin to a mouse being led in a maze, but the end reward wouldn’t be a gratifying piece of cheese. He bit his lip while averting his eyes, deciding that refusing to answer would be best.

“Is it something else that I’m not authorized to know?”

Resettling his gaze on Batman, he grievously admitted. “There are things about _you_ that I don’t know.”

“There are reasons for that.” The quiet reply sounded agonized in his ears. “But it’s not as if I wouldn’t tell you. This is different. You’ve never hidden anything from me before _willingly_.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t decided to ignore me the past week.”

Batman’s heart skipped a few beats.

“That…was unfortunately necessary.”

“Why?” As silence greeted him, he smacked himself mentally. Bruce never divulged information readily. “Well what happened was too.”

The scrutinizing glare revealed as a frown on Batman’s face. “How does that work?”

“Since I had more free time, I wanted my time to be occupied.”

“By?”

He shrugged, racking his brain for something to say. He missed talking to Bruce and he wanted this back and forth for as long as possible, even though he was being thoroughly questioned.

“Getting together with people.”

“So you dined with random people because you were bored?” The vexed sigh made him roll his eyes.

“They weren’t _random_. They were dates.”

 _Damn it_. He had been goaded to reveal details instead of relying on his previous K.I.S.S. plan: Keep It Simple Superman. But…why did Bruce’s heart steadily pump faster now?

“You went on dates over the past week.”

“That is what people do, Bruce.”

“And you were on one last night.”

 “Yes.”

“In which the individual who I am not entitled to know anything about—except the fact that they were your date for the evening—distracted _you_?”

“I thought we went over this.”

“How?”

“What do you mean _how_?” Superman linked his arms across his chest, agitated beyond belief. “I’m not incapable of going up to someone who I find attractive and asking them out on a date.”

Batman pinched the bridge of his nose. Most assuredly, the oceanic eyes hidden beneath the cowl were closed.

“ _How_ did your date distract you to cause the knife to slip and cut you, Clark?”

“ _How_ do you think?” He retorted, imitating his irritable tone.

“There are many ways for an individual—especially on a date—to distract another.”

Superman’s eyes fell onto the area of Batman he could see and blurted without thinking. “His mouth.”

“His mouth.”

The lips thinned and Superman set his gaze on the floor. They reminded him of how they had wrapped around Hal’s own, brushed against his body, closed around his drenched fingers, and moaned his name—

His anger returned and he didn’t know why. But there is something else intertwined with it. It reminded him of the gut-wrenching sensation that had made him want to empty his stomach contents, but _worse_.

“Are you going to repeat everything that I say?” Superman muttered out, just to say something to break the oppressive silence. This isn't how his first conversation with Bruce should be going. “He was really distracting when he used his mouth.”

Batman said nothing for a few moments more before he whispered, “I wanted to make sure you used the correct pronouns and it seems so because you used two variations twice of the same gender.”

Superman’s eyes then flashed wide as he realized what he had done. Batman’s head now angled away from him. That was all it took for Superman to regret his words. The feeling of Bruce’s abandonment was still raw, but it didn’t mean that he wanted to inflict anything similar on him.

“Bruce—” he began apologetically, peeking at him.

“When did I become someone that you lie to and mock, Kent?” His voice held a turbulence of emotions.

“You’re _not_.” He stepped back as if the wind had been knocked from him.

The cowl ripped from his head and he stared into the fierce azure eyes of Bruce, a snarl distorting his features.

“ _You_ do not get distracted at something as juvenile as the appearance of _anyone_ , their mouth or whatever other justification you’re trying to think up. You also have superior reflexes so you’d have caught the knife or moved your hand in time before it could occur.”

“Not in front of people.” He countered irately. “They would _know_.”

“Which is why I don’t understand why you simply chose _not_ to explain that you had broken a champagne glass at my benefit last night.”

Ashamedly, he looked away. Bruce knew, but he didn’t _know_.

The anguish he felt the night before threatened to overtake him. Didn’t Bruce get it? If Clark had been there, he would have most likely heard Hal’s distracting noises which would have caused him to probe further and reveal them. So Clark  _hadn't_ been there for Bruce's sake and to save Clark the unease of what he felt when he had seen the two.

“Because I wasn’t—” he began.

“You must think that I am _the_ most moronic person if you’re willing to lie to me.” Bruce spoke through gritted teeth. “I have cameras in and around my manor. There were a number of attendees who identified you not only _engaging_ a number of them but also as the perpetrator of the broken glass. _Lois Lane_ confessed that you had been disturbed and destroyed the flute after I mentioned seeing the two of you together." He winced. He had asked Lois to refrain from admitting that Clark had been there. "Not to add on the severe lack of blood and the ground dust that had been glass in the bathroom.”

Superman felt a heavy weight on his chest. The fury that he didn’t want to unleash neared its brink. His slow breathing steadied him as he clenched himself tighter. If he held anything now, it would break under his hand. The neat gauze was nothing more than a tight ball in his grip.

“You’re always in control. What did you hear Luthor say?”

He let out a huff of air. It isn’t about Luthor. As startling and rare to say, this time Clark’s resentment is _not_ Luthor. He answered honestly. “Nothing.”

Superman could tell that Bruce’s patience is wearing thin.

“There had to be something that occurred which led you to almost reveal your identity.” He snapped angrily. “You are important to a great many people. Don’t you understand that? The Justice League and the world _need_ you. Foolishly unveiling yourself due to being unaware would jeopardize the team.”

His mouth slackened at the injurious insinuation before he let out a livid retort. “Are you sure you’re not confusing the team with the member that you’re sleeping with?” He whispered vehemently.

The effect came immediately after he spoke. Shock revealed itself in Bruce’s eyes. The color drained from his face as he looked upon Superman. He didn’t have to listen to know that his heart thrummed wildly.

Why would he be surprised though? He knew that Clark had been present. Why wouldn’t he think that Clark would use his powers to find him?

_Because we weren’t speaking then. He knows I would respect his space._

Oh Rao.

“You saw.”

No emotion betrayed his voice. It made Superman fiddle with the ball of gauze he held.

“Yeah.”

He wondered what he should say. If Bruce worried about the League members finding out about Hal and him, he promised it would remain confidential.

“You’re repulsed.” This time, he spoke more quietly.

“What? I—” Superman drew in a shaky breath when the sensation roiled through him.

Revulsion.

That is the queasy feeling churning within him. It made him want to curl into himself to ease imagined pain. It compared to a particularly bad case of the stomach flu or—in Clark’s case—after being exposed to Kryptonite for a lengthy period.

He ruminated on Bruce’s simple statement. It is true that the sickening sensation plagued him, but he couldn’t specify _at what_. He knew it had nothing to do with Bruce. Lips parted to say so when he noticed that Bruce had donned his cowl, heading for the door. His body—even through the armor—radiated death.

“Bruce.”

His tormented voice usually had the desired effect. Bruce would slow, pause, and when the silence stretched on for an extended amount of time, he’d tilt his head back to let out a glare from a solitary eye.

But this didn’t occur. What happened was a first: Bruce walked out and didn’t look back.

* * *

_**~*~*~Superman's Suite: Watchtower~*~*~** _

_Why_  is he torturing himself? Miserable tears rolled down his cheeks as he choked back whimpers in his room. On his bed with his back against the wall and legs drawn, Clark leaned on them. A fist pressed against his lips. _Why_ didn’t he leave?

After hurriedly obtaining another roll of gauze, he pursued Bruce to find that he had vacated the Tower. Upset at his untimely revelations, Clark reluctantly went to the Daily Planet. It wouldn’t do to pursue Bruce in his current state.

Lois indulged in an angry tirade when they were shut in their office. When she realized that Clark’s thoughts enthralled him, she became troubled. Holding him close to her, she asked if he wished to talk. Unable to confess, he gloomily shook his head. As if to console him, she told him that she wrote the story in _both_ of their names while apologizing about having to reveal him to a surprisingly observant Mr. Wayne.

She didn’t know the half of it.

The day crept by agonizingly _slow_ as he brooded over him. A terrible foreboding loomed over him though he had assumed it was due to their ensuing conversation. The fact that Bruce thought that he induced the wretched sensations that wracked him disturbed Clark. He felt obligated to repair _them_ due to their long-lasting friendship.

In hindsight, Clark wished he called Bruce on his communicator and relayed a message.

After searching the mansion from afar and not finding him, he should have left well alone until the next League meeting.

But a compulsory need racked him. He _had_ to see Bruce—right then.

That found him trudging the Watchtower halls in the living quarters to come upon—

A heavily perspiring Hal vigorously riding Bruce’s cock. Hard thrusts met him as he slid down on the thick shaft. Hands braced on Bruce’s chest to steady himself. Bruce’s tight grip on Hal’s hips ensured he wouldn’t topple over. The enjoyment of the other was lost on them, but Clark knew they _felt_ it.

“ _Fuck ye-es!_ ”

Hal tossed his head back, revealing a face twisted in painful pleasure. He moaned obscenely, curling his fingers to scratch against his lover. Eyes laden with lust, Bruce arced into the touch, growling as he threw more power into his onslaught of Hal’s delicious hole.

“ _Shit, Bruce_.”

A sob escaped him as his body shook.

Bruce was lost to him. There wasn’t any way that Clark could reconcile. He’d _failed_ the most important person in his life, lost his trust with a severe misunderstanding. Even if Clark brought it up, it would fall on deaf ears—Superman is usually more assertive. Why hadn’t he been then?

Because Bruce might not have believed him?

Or compelled him to face his disturbing emotions?

Would he not be readily fucking Hal if he had?

Hal leaned over to catch Bruce’s lips, eagerly sucking his tongue when it darted out. He rocked onto Bruce, grunting whenever his cock rammed deeply into him. His stretched crevice held onto the girth pummeling him for additional friction as he stroked himself. He cried out as Bruce painfully bit his bottom lip.

 _Everything_ hurt. A headache thrummed due to his incessant crying. His tortured soul roiled with despair. His eyes felt sore. His lungs hurt as if he couldn’t breathe, exhales heavy. He just wanted it _all_ to go away.

But he _had_ to watch to imprint in his mind the result of his actions. No matter how badly it tortured him.

Bruce coasted along taut muscle to encircle Hal’s back, pulling him flush against him. He groaned, turning his face into his pillow. Hal moved to assault his bared neck, slopping wet sounds emanating as he sucked on his flesh. He rolled himself against the smooth glide of Bruce’s swollen member.

Then Hal convulsed, gasping as he came. His balls spasming and cock jerking as his cum streamed over hard sweaty muscle. Bruce bucked with such force, driving himself to the hilt inside of Hal. A low groan from Bruce let Clark know that he currently spilled into Hal.

“Damn.” Hal panted over Bruce. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Bruce silenced him with a kiss that breathed an air of finality. And Clark felt the same. A dreadful sensation washed over him as he decided that he didn’t need closure from Bruce, but he wouldn’t allow him to control his emotions any longer.

As greatly as he wanted Bruce back, he knew that it wouldn’t happen. Since Bruce seemed so intent to progress in life without him, Clark could so the same.

He only hoped that his resolution withstood.


	4. Unworthy Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman encounters Green Lantern and finds out something about himself. Afterwards, he seeks solace in a hopefully kindred spirit.

_**~*~*~Watchtower Meditation Room: Months Later~*~*~** _

Their seemingly unbreakable connection reverted in the following months. It is _alien_ to Superman. He let a meager self-deprecating smile form that looked misplaced in his reflection. He never regressed in anything and this situation is one that required his strongest ally. How unfortunate is it that his favored companion was the issue?

His forehead rested against the pane of glass as he stared down at the Earth, arms over his chest. J’onn Jones sent him a calm inquiry asking if he needed to talk. Superman comforted him, though he doubted if he was effective.

The emptiness in his life never lessened with the passage of time. A multitude of circumstances arose that eons ago would enable him to shoot off a text to Bruce or call him excitedly. His confidant would listen sincerely and chuckle at Clark’s eagerness. Now, each incident reminded him of the nigh unbearable pit of loneliness that threatened to drown him in interminable sorrow.

The door hissed open and he lifted his head to stare in the reflective surface, hope leaping at the thought that it could be Batman. It quelled at the sight of Green Lantern.

This is a regrettable consequence of the deterioration of Bruce and Clark’s friendship. It affected others and the League members had noticed that the two men were no longer amicable. One is oblivious to the presence of the other, treating him as an invisible nuisance that lurked around. The other is greatly affected by these reactions and consistently wore a wounded expression, once sparkling sapphires now dulled by limpid suffering. He kept away from the other. This bled into the dynamic of the group and would eventually splinter them if allowed to fester.

He knew to which faction the Green Lantern belonged. Over the course of Clark and Bruce’s steadily decaying relationship, Hal’s demeanor towards him changed. It began subtly with the exclusion of Hal’s friendly pestering. Then amicable smiles subsided, supplanted with frowns. Finally, Hal mirrored Bruce in terms of his treatment towards him.

How had he affronted them to be the target of such malicious actions?

Shaking his head to disentangle his thoughts, he compelled an easy grin to bless his face while turning towards the Lantern. It faltered when he noticed the severe glower and rigid stance with arms crossed.

“How can I help you, Hal?”

“I’m gay.”

Superman’s head inclined slightly as he peered down at his colleague. He didn’t obscure the genuine confusion that emerged. Why was he telling him this?

“I like men. Scratch that, I _love_ men. I love fucking them. I love having them fuck me. I love mutual blow-jobs, swallowing cum, rim jobs, bukkake—the whole nine inches.”

_I know. I’ve seen you twice._

Superman’s cheeks flamed and he averted his eyes in embarrassment. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he planted one on a hip and ran the other through his hair. What did he say in this situation? Congratulations? He’s happy that Hal accepts who he is? What is buk-kah-keh?

“You understand that?” His voice held scarcely contained ire.

“No need to be vulgar.” Superman retorted in annoyance. His upbringing wasn’t as sheltered as many people seemed to stereotypically believe. He thought he did rather well for knowing most of the sexual acts. “I know the definition of gay in this situation.”

“Shove the innocent _act_ , Boy scout.”

What act? He scrutinized the Lantern through lidded eyes. If he is inferring that Clark is _pretending_ in this situation, he couldn’t be more awry.

Lantern deliberately approached him. “Does that bother you?”

“Well, if you want me to be honest, yeah.”

His advance halted abruptly. Then he deliberately bared his teeth. Superman could also see an imperceptible tremor that reverberated throughout his body.

He continued, pondering what specifically upset him. “This isn’t an _act_ , Hal.”

His arms casually unfurled yet tightly clenched fists were apparent. The vibrations were more notable.

“You can get your point across without needing to be so crude.”

Strangely, the Green Lantern’s movements ebbed as Clark continued.

“I don’t know why you would think it’s something that I would feign. I try to be as honest as I can. Otherwise I’m not worthy of leading anyone.” His offended eyes are easily decipherable. “I might not know all of what you said, but I assure you that I don’t need it explained so crassly. I’m not _that_ naïve.”

Nothing is said until the Green Lantern let out a derisive laugh, swiping a hand across his face.

“Oh fuck.” He put his hands on his hips, brandishing his head as he surveyed Clark. “Okay. That wasn’t what I meant. Now whether you deserve to lead is debatable, at least in my subjective perception. It really depends on what you say to my next question.”

Superman winced. Rao, that is unnecessarily hostile. He knew not everyone cared for him and he had resolved that it was impossible to please everyone. A simple universal truth that not even Superman would be able to defy. But he was closer to Hal than the inhabitants of Earth. He assumed that they were amiable before the past few months. Had he been wrong?

Lantern didn’t delay while Superman warred with his thoughts. “Does it bother you that I’m gay?”

He hadn’t thought it would be possible to be more insulted, but renewed agony surged through him. Gaping at Hal, it took him a few tries to push out what he wanted to say.

“ _No_.” He responded thoroughly provoked as rage seeped into his voice. “Who you love and are attracted to is _not_ my business, Hal! Why would it?!”

“Because _you_ told Bruce that you were disgusted with him!” His fist slammed against the nearest wall, an enraged stare aimed at him as he shouted.

Connections were being made in his brain, but it seemed too slow for him. He sputtered helplessly, indignation momentarily oozing away. “Bruce is—I mean I didn’t know he—”

That didn’t make sense. In the media, Bruce always had a new flame—all female. Superman _knew_ that Bruce slept with quite a few of them. How is it possible for women to lose their appeal to him?

“Yes.” He flared. “He’s gay. Only interested in men like I am. No big deal, right!? Except the savior of the world is a fucking unbelievable closeted bigot! Imagine that?”

He didn’t give Superman a chance to respond, ignoring his disconsolate face.

“Listen. I don’t give a shit about your Midwestern conservative ideals. Everyone is free to believe in what they want, even though what they believe may be the _wrong_ fucking belief. But antagonizing someone over something that wasn’t in their control in the first place is not only _demented_ , it’s inexcusable. Especially for someone who leads a League of Heroes that protect people like that _all_ the time. How would you like people to _alienate_ you?”

“I’d _never_ do that to him, Hal!” His temper breached, he struggled to keep his heat vision at bay. “I just _told_ you that I didn’t know he was into men exclusively! And it doesn’t matter now that I do!”

Lantern closed the distance between them, his face inches from Superman. “Then why did you tell him that you were disgusted with him, huh?” He expressed through rough breaths. “If you don’t care about something that is _obviously_ not your business, why did you say it?”

“I _didn’t_.” He battled to keep his voice steady. “He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he left the room. And I’m _not_ disturbed with or by him.”

Suddenly he felt drained. The past few weeks were catching up with him. He tired of dealing with emotions that he couldn’t face alone. Being estranged from former comrades took its toll. Superman helped him focus on more important matters, but he isn't the caped hero all the time. He hadn’t made a mistake yet but at the current rate, it could happen soon. Indebted to his team, this waking nightmare must end.

Moving around Lantern, he muttered defeated. “I could never feel that way about, Bruce. No matter what happens, I’d _never_ feel that way about him. I’m sorry he thinks that and I wish he would _let_ me tell him.”

The Green Lantern looked skeptically at the beaten hero. “Then who?” He demanded, tone hard. “Bruce is amazing at reading other people’s emotions even though he pretends to not show any. I find it hard to believe that he told me what he did and it turns out to be inaccurate. The man’s almost never mistaken.”

_And this couldn’t be one of those rare moments?_

When Superman didn’t reply, he ground out. “Is it me? Because I couldn’t care less if you are and would happily tell you to go fuck yourself.”

Superman shook his head, more for himself than in response. Thinking back to what he had seen between the two of them, he remembered feeling resentful of Hal, but he wasn’t repulsed by him. The fact that they liked men had nothing to do with it. And Bruce? Clark didn’t _like_ seeing him with Hal. He hadn’t minded when Bruce loosened up with women. But with Hal—with a man—he did.  

“No.” A quiet mumble that revealed that troubling thoughts ensnared him. “No. It’s—”

Ocean blues enlarged as his breath caught. Himself. Clark revolted himself. He whispered in a tortured tone.

“Me.”

Everything slowed then—the easy rotation of the Watchtower, Lantern’s sharp intake of breath, Superman’s stopping heart—before it all sped up to overwhelm him. He found himself inflamed with the torrent of emotions coursing him and all he heard exacerbated it.

The steady drip of the faucet in the bathroom that someone didn’t turn completely.

The laughter in the main area of the Watchtower.

J’onn’s increasingly detrimental presence in his mind attempting to soothe him.

Running both hands through his hair and then covering his ears, he tried to tune everything out.

Slightly burnt popcorn reeked from the kitchen, tasting foul in his mouth.

The consistent clang of metal as Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman sparred in the training room and soon after lascivious moans.

A gentle touch on his back.

“Don’t touch me!” He snarled, whipping around and pinning the Green Lantern against the wall. The Watchtower seemed to shift due to the force.

He raised both hands in surrender or possibly as if to calm him. Superman wasn’t an invalid nor was he a dangerous psychopath. Lantern’s actions served to only infuriate him more.

“ _Superman_.” The monotone voice came from within him. “ _I request that you exercise caution. We will not remain in range of Earth’s gravitational pull if you continue._ ”

“ _Get_ out _of my head_!” He shouted, snatching his hands away from him before storming out of the room with his super speed.

Everything made sense now and the inevitable truth he fought down daily rose to the forefront of his mind.

Clark _isn’t_ human. He had unfair advantages that _normal_ people didn’t. Trying to find something in any area in his life that put him on an equal playing field with others is difficult. Journalism gave him that outlet: he is challenged on his intellectual ability and the only inequality happened to be that he typed abnormally fast. It simply had the added benefit of allowing him to have reasons for being on crime scenes and obtaining breaking news.

Assimilating within society had been even more strenuous. Besides the precautionary measures of hiding his physique under ill-fitting suits and wearing wire-rimmed spectacles, he adopted ideals that aligned with his moral beliefs—as did most everyone—and ensured his mannerisms were _opposite_ of Superman.

These were all aspects of his life he could control. They aided him in being what he truly wanted to be: ordinary. There were a few that he couldn’t though none interfered with his _normal_ life. Attraction used to be one of them.

Securing himself within his room, he lied on the bed and allowed _every_ emotion that he experienced recently come forth. There it is—hidden among the _grief pain shame loneliness rage_ that swelled within him. Surrendering himself to its presence, warmth seeped through his body, washing away all other emotions. He basked in the _love_ he felt for Bruce—not simply the fondness he held for his friend but the profound amorous affection he wanted to bestow as a lover. It felt right.

And this…this is  _not_ normal. People are harshly judged for their interests in the same-sex, berated, and killed in certain parts of the world. Superman stood for all of the disenfranchised. He believed in and supported their rights including the freedom to be with or whoever they wished. Superman is a beacon of hope that fought for justice.

But now…he steadied his breaths as _humiliation_ coiled through him. This sensation would be a constant reminder of how he differed from those he lived among. Even though there were others who assuredly felt as he did, he was _still_ distinctive by way of _who_ he happened to be. How could he be a more potent symbol if he no longer contrasted with the people he fought for? Weren’t the greatest heroes those who stood for injustice even though they never faced or had to deal with it?

He didn’t know the answer and the one who would he no longer had access to. Clark realized that to avoid his inevitable self-implosion, he _needed_ to talk to someone else about it. A non-biased individual that knew both of his personas would be ideal. He relished the sense of _calm_ that the thought brought to him and held onto it.

Dallying with the thought of J’onn led him to realize that the Martian’s tranquil nature would never betray his innermost opinions. J’onn would likely voice what others would _want_ him to say. He read minds and most likely never went through Clark’s ordeal. His altercation with him earlier also required a show of remorse. Clark couldn’t deal with _two_ stressful conversations simultaneously.

Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl would be of the same mind as Hal albeit very perturbed that Clark felt such a way, especially since they were together. Wonder Woman would be more patient though her lack of knowledge of many of Earth’s customs would be a detriment. Hawkgirl would be more aggressive and less tolerant—a disastrous approach when Clark would need his situation to be handled delicately.

That only left one person and he realized that Barry Allen had never shown any type of bias to him. Hopefully the Flash hadn’t been informed of Superman’s outburst.

Using his transparent vision, he found Flash’s location and rose with trepidation. Exhaling gradually, he floated to the main chamber, intent on following through before he considered it or his nerve would be lost.

Pausing in the air, he identified Batman typing away at the computer, his posture relaxed while wearing a smirk. Flash reclined in the chair next to him while munching on a sandwich, regaling him with an anecdote. The pleasant emotion suffused within him the longer he observed Batman.

Superman swallowed hard, knowing the transformation that would transpire when he spoke.

“Barry.”

The response is instantaneous. His shoulders straightened, the smile dissipating as the skin over his jaw became taut. His whole demeanor emanated cold indifference. Superman monitored the quick retreat into his Batman shell and wished to perform his own so that he wouldn’t disturb him.

He compelled himself to continue.

 “’Sup, Supes?” Flash angled his head back to look at him.

Batman, of course, gave no acknowledgment. The strained atmosphere seemed lost on Flash, who continued chewing thoughtfully.

Superman wavered. His predicament demanded that he seek out someone who would help him. But doing it with Batman in his sights would be impossible. Smoothly he glided over and gently settled in the space between Batman and Flash, placing his hands on his hips.

“I would like to ask you something.”

The strokes of the keys slowed slightly. Superman blushed at the implication. Batman is listening in rather than respecting his space.

 _Calm down._ He scolded. _He could have found something that caught his interest on the screen._

Thinking it best to simply divulge what occupied his mind, he asked, “Well, I want to talk to you. But not here. Would you be interested in a before-dinner snack tomorrow?”

Superman no longer heard anything behind him. He could see without having to look back that Batman keenly watched him. What emotion did he wear? Besides his rapid pulse which could mean quite a few things, Superman had no idea what to deduce from the man behind him.

By the frown on his face and his tone, Superman knew Flash furrowed his brow in worry. “Anything wrong?”

“No!” That was slightly too loud. “No. I _really_ …I just need to talk to you. With no one else around.” He stumbled on, endeavoring to make himself coherent. He motioned between them with his forefinger. “Just the two of us. Alone. It’s…important.”

Flash laughed at Superman’s stammering, tonguing his lip to relieve it of mustard. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind. But I’m doing this with Bats again.”

“Ask Hal to switch you as a favor.” Superman requested. All of his concentration was poured onto Flash. If not, he’d take notice of the spiked heart and unsettling breaths from the man he loved behind him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” The words were expelled faintly with a dab of emotion within them.

“He owes me a few.” Flash mused while finishing his sandwich. “I’m guessing your place?”

“If that’s okay? There’s a great diner on Madison Avenue. It's called Skyline, I think. Their coffees and pies are the best. Say five-thirty?”

“It’s a date.” He flashed him a grin. Superman squirmed. He didn’t really want to think about a _date_ now. “But why not just _do_ dinner?”

Superman raised an eyebrow, inclining his head. It almost escaped his notice that Batman held his breath. “Um…well…”

“I mean, it’s _that_ time anyway…for some people. And, no offense, if I’m dining out while have a serious conversation, I want a meal. Not just dessert.”

 _It's not as if it's an actual date_ , Clark thought.

He chuckled happily for the first time in a while. “Okay. Sure. Dinner. My treat. See you then.”

As he flew away feeling less distraught than before, he heard Flash exclaim, “What? What did I do?”


	5. Sensuous Balm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark Kent and Barry Allen go on their 'date' to allay Clark's emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest of the chapters....with tons of sex. You've been warned. :D

_**~*~*~Downtown Metropolis: Skyline Diner: The Next Day~*~*~** _

Bespectacled Clark—bedecked in a striped polo button-down Oxford, black trousers complete with similarly colored dress shoes—beamed at Barry who had dropped a piece of apple pie onto his starch white shirt and faded jeans. Mopping at the mess off-handedly with a napkin, he continued enlightening Clark on the goings-on of Central City.

They were currently finishing a pleasant dinner in downtown Metropolis, the late hour traffic unheard of due to the din of the populated diner. The smell of chicken fried steak and buttery mashed potatoes lingered in the air. Tucked away in a corner booth for some semblance of privacy, they talked about the League, their personal lives, their jobs, and then similar interests. Savoring a forkful of rhubarb pie, Clark acknowledged that he was the happiest he’d ever been since his whole stressful situation began.

“I’ll admit that I don’t know how you don’t spill food on yourself. You’re practically stainless.” Barry narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “You speed home whenever you do, don’t you?”

“No, sorry.” He chuckled. “I’m a careful eater.”

“You stuff yourself as much as I do, big guy.” Raising an eyebrow, he swept his hand over the slew of dishes stacked near them.

His cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. I really like the taste of food. I don’t need to eat but when I come to places like this, I tend to…overindulge since I _like_ a lot of things.” He pointed his fork at him. “And half of those are yours.”

“I gladly admit it. It’s great to eat as much as I want with no weight gain.” Barry settled back in his seat, stretching. A thoughtful frown graced his face. “This was nice. Thanks for inviting me out. But we didn’t really…I mean, did we _talk_ like you wanted to?”

The cup Clark raised to his lips froze in his grip, the steam from the coffee fogging his glasses. Unwanted feelings crept up. “Uh…no. We didn’t.”

“Do you want to?” Barry’s blue eyes captured Clark’s as he set his half-empty mug down. “I don’t mind hearing you out.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Barry.” He flashed him a tight smile. “You don’t pass judgement quickly either. It’s why I asked you.”

Barry let a charming grin slip. “That’s high praise and I hope I’m worthy of it.”

Clark regarded him. Though he didn’t have anyone else to converse with, he found he rather enjoyed Barry. The blond isn't Bruce, but he made up for it by being his light-hearted optimistic bright self. It is a refreshing change. He is also straight…as far as Clark knew.

Deciding to simply barrel through, he let out quietly. “I…recently found out something about myself that…bothers me.”

He fidgeted as Barry’s face fell into a serious one. This is harder than he thought.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.” The tone of encouragement emboldened him.

“It’s not _bad_.” Clark fumbled. “Just unexpected. There are reasons why it bothers me but it’d help me if I knew someone who went through the same.”

Their auburn-haired waitress checked in on them. Barry ordered two additional slices of apple pie topped with whipped cream and two cups of coffee. Clark smiled in gratitude. Never let anyone say that Barry isn’t observant. As she departed, he nodded at Clark. “I’m game. Shoot.”

He took a hesitant breath. If he didn’t get this out, it wouldn’t ever happen. Besides, his intuition told him that Barry would help him somewhat. “Have you ever been attracted to another man?”

Barry’s eyes enlarged in surprise as he stared at him. Clark would not allow himself to be derailed lest he stop. “You don’t have to answer. It’s just—I’m asking because I’m solely interested in women. But there’s one man who I find myself just as attracted to and…and I feel repulsed by it.”

“Oh wow.” Barry whistled, wrapping his arms and looking out the window, chewing on his cheek in thought. “I’m guessing the reason why you’re not talking about this with Bruce is because—”

“He’s the one.”

“And Hal?”

“Thinks I’m a bigot because of a misunderstanding.”

Shocked eyes flicked over to him. He intoned deliberately to ensure he heard correctly. “ _Hal_ thinks that you’re prejudiced?”

“Yeah.” Degraded, his oceanic gaze settled on his plate. He pushed remnants of his pie around with his fork. “He told me after something happened.”

“With Bruce, I’m guessing?”

Clark licked his lips, chest hurting dreadfully. “Yeah.” He whispered.

“ _Jesus_ , Hal!” Barry shook his head fiercely, his pallor burning with anger. “What an idiot. Seriously. Look, Clark, _I_ know as does _everyone_ with two functioning brain cells that you are the _least_ narrow-minded person on this Earth. Let me guess: Hal shot his mouth off because something set him off instead of getting the whole story?”

Clark didn’t respond. When Barry’s hand took hold of his, he lifted his eyes. The blond took in an arduous breath as he read the turmoil reflected within. “So I’m right. Tell that to Bruce. Anyway, there will always be people like Hal who run on emotion instead of logic. He meant well though I know that doesn’t mean much. I’m not defending him—because he is _dead_ wrong no matter what he says in this case—but don’t be too hard on him. There’s stuff that you don’t know.”

“He said a _lot_ of things…” Clark’s voice broke and he bit down on his lip to keep from releasing a sob. He averted his gaze, setting down his fork before covering his mouth with his hand.

“Hey.” Barry consoled. “Clark, look at me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that Hal’s so hot-tempered and doesn’t know how to utilize common sense at times. I don’t know what he said. I don’t even want to ask because I see how this hurts you. But _listen_ to me—whatever he said is untrue.”

His fingers tightened their hold on Clark to see if it would elicit a response. He received a curt nod after a few moments.

“Christ.” Barry blew out a violent breath. “What he said really messed with you. I’m going to kill him. I’ll find a way to use his ring, make a donkey construct, and beat him with it. Show him how much of a jackass he is. This happens _after_ he apologizes of course.”

Barry’s attempt at humor didn’t go unappreciated. Clark huffed and his fingers closed around him. They both remained in such a pose, looking out the window at nothing in particular. Neither took note aloud of the comfort that swept through them due to a simple compassionate touch.

When Clark regained his composure, he noticed a bashful Barry simpering at him. The slight vibration of his fingers gave way that he nervously twitched. “And about the…uh…other thing? You know, being attracted to a guy as a straight guy?”

Barry’s eyes bore into his as the door to the diner chimed, admitting two men. Unintentionally, his grasp on Barry tightened and Barry did the same. “I know how that is.”

“Oh!” Relief flooded through Clark, a sunny smile lighting up his face while crinkling his eyes. “You do? How do you cope with it? I mean, does he notice you? Have you told him? Do you feel like—like I do?”

A light snicker came from the blond at Clark’s rambling. “It’s just a crush for me, Clark, though I wouldn’t mind if it went further. He’s a good-looking guy. Great personality. One of the best that I’ve met. Whoever gets him is lucky.

“When I first realized that I was interested in him, I denied it. I never thought I’d be into another man especially since it isn’t difficult for me to get babes. But no, I never felt disgusted with myself. I just embraced it as something new that I discovered. Life apparently is full of surprises.”

As Barry spoke, his thumb lightly caressed Clark’s fingers. Softly looking upon him, he murmured. “Now, I don’t mind and if I find another man that catches my eye, I’d try dating him. I doubt it though—this guy’s one of a kind. As for if he realizes I exist? He doesn’t really notice me like _that_ I’m sure, especially since he recently told me he’s into a grumpy bat.”

Embarrassment colored his face mixed with a touch of elation. To cover it, Clark gulped down the rest of his coffee. It cooled as they talked, but it still helped him douse the blooming warmth in his chest. He fancied the gentle caresses and words but it was from the wrong man and contempt for himself persisted. Still, it felt _nice_ to have someone be so interested in him again, though the sharp ice pick stabbing at him infrequently known as betrayal enlightened him that Bruce should be the one he converses with, not Barry.

Setting his cup down, he watched Barry’s mirthful eyes. “How do you feel now?”

Admittedly, he felt better. But a single conversation wouldn’t erase years of longstanding emotions. This is a step in the right direction though.

“Well, I—”

“These seats taken?” A restrained voice flitted into their ears.

“Kind of busy here, pal.” Barry muttered as neither of them forced their gaze away. “Not to mention that we’re not looking for company. Go ahead, Clark.”

 “I can see that.” The man interrupted before Clark could continue. “You don’t have to stop on our account though.” A large body seated itself next to Barry.

“What the _hell_ , man?!” He exclaimed, snatching himself from Clark’s grasp to twist in his seat, prepared to push the man out. Sky blues recognized warm cocoa. “ _Hal_? What happened to your face?”

Disappointment filtered through Clark’s face at being disrupted. He scrutinized Hal with a frown.

A large purple bruise decorated his lower left jaw as the brunette simply stared back, agitated eyes flickering to him. How did Hal know where they were? Why was he here? And though Clark wished he wasn’t concerned after his abject cruelty, how did he get that nasty blemish?

As if reading his mind, Hal stated, “Hope it’s okay if we join you, Clark.”

The lack of animus within the tone was not lost on Clark who chose to refrain from speaking. All of the accusations from the day before refreshed in his mind bringing forth gnawing pain. Forgiveness wouldn’t come easily due to any intervention. He gripped his empty mug tighter.

Wait…Did he say _we_?

Shifting his sight upward, he identified the frigid electric eyes penetrating his unsure ones. His mouth suddenly seemed arid, his throat parched. He tried to salivate, to wet his tongue while quelling the cold anxiety licking his heart.

Oh no. He couldn’t.

“Well, ah, we’re actually done—” He meant for his sputtering to be directed towards Hal though his eyes remained on Bruce.

“Interesting, since there isn’t a checkbook indicating that you’ve paid nor any gratuity on the table. Just in case if you say that you’re waiting on your card—or change in your case, Clark, since you prefer handling cash—you haven’t finished your pie. I know that you hate being wasteful.”

Hal almost smirked.

Clark took in the two men: one wearing a navy blue V-neck, jeans and Converses. Contrary to his companion, the other dressed as Clark except that the materials used to create the items were infinitely more expensive than Clark could conceive. It was clear that Bruce disclosed their location to Hal, but for what purpose? To shame him?

He dropped his sight to the fingers curled around his cup, a heavy grimace on his face. He blinked back the tears that were rapidly forming. What did he do to deserve this? All he wanted was to get help with his issues. They were going to taunt instead of ignore him now?

Barry sighed, though he scooted over to allow Hal more room. “What are you two doing here? I asked you to cover me, Hal.”

 _I set that up so you two could have some alone time_. Clark thought begrudgingly.

“We got them covered so that we could go out.”

 _So you’re dating?_ His hand flew up to clutch at his chest. His heart bemoaned his suffering.

“In Metropolis?” Barry aired out what Clark had thought. Neither seemed to notice his behavior. “Together?”

“Bruce doesn’t like when I’m in his city and Coast City is too far away.”

 _He didn’t mind that night._ A pained exhale left him as the memory resurfaced.

“But _why_ Metropolis?”

“Rumor has it that _Superman_ lives here.” Hal comically widened his eyes. “I was hoping to see him.”

Barry laughed despite of his underlying anger. “That was bad, Hal. Even for _you_.”

Bruce’s deep bass muttered comfortingly to Clark, ignoring the other two men. Crap. The most observant of the four had watched him. “If you want us to leave, Clark, we will.”

Hal lobbed a peeved look at him.

A part of him _did_ want them to depart: they were interrupting an extremely emotional conversation he needed to have. He’d also been shut out of Bruce’s life which still profoundly hurt him. Why did Bruce get to decide when they would speak again?

Then again, Bruce _was_ speaking to him. He couldn’t deny the joy that lit inside him at the thought. If they were resuming their friendship, it also meant that Clark could possibly have his conversation with someone more adept to handle him.

Barry read Clark’s face, wrought with emotion. “It’s probably for the best.” He stated seriously.

“Aw, come on Bar.” Hal interceded, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “That’s no way to treat friends.”

He snorted, shooting a deathly glare at his best friend. He shrugged him off roughly. “Yeah. Some freaking friend _you_ are. Whoever sucker-punched you had the right idea.”

Hal’s bronze eyes flickered between Clark and Barry. Reluctantly, Clark relented, shifting towards the window. When he didn’t feel the pressure of the seat that let him know someone was sitting, he peered at Bruce.

“I’m not sitting until I get an invitation.” He responded to the non-verbal inquiry.

Hal rolled his eyes. “He moved over. I think that’s an _okay, you can sit your ass down_. Damn, what's your problem? You're too good that you _have_ to be invited?”

Cobaltic eyes slid from Clark to Hal. “The problem, Hal, is that you _don’t_ think, at least beyond your emotions or what’s on the surface.” Bruce’s cold timbre exhibited fury. “He hasn’t acknowledged my presence. He barely looks in my direction. He hasn’t spoken to me _directly_. He’s tense and if he grips the cup any tighter than he is, it’ll break.”

Instantly, Clark let go of the cup. Huffing, he murmured under his breath, “You know everything, don’t you Bruce?”

It wasn’t heard due to Hal scowling. “Or you’re just a paranoid nutcase per usual. People are starting to notice you, genius. Don’t you think you should be less conspicuous?”

Clark surveyed the diner to see some people muttering and pointing. He had forgotten about Bruce’s acclaim. Before Bruce could respond, he whispered, “Please sit, Bruce.”

He hesitated, examining Clark to deduce if he wasn’t being coerced into doing something against his will. “Thank you.”

“Well, I need to go hit the john.” Barry shoved Hal none too gently. “Move. I’ve been holding it.”

As Bruce situated himself while Barry headed to the restroom, the waitress returned with Clark and Barry’s desserts and drinks, Clark’s cheeks burning at the fact that his lie couldn’t be denied further. Bruce ordered black coffee and an egg white omelet with bacon, green peppers, tomatoes, and onions while Hal chose a sirloin steak with vegetables, mashed potatoes, and a light beer.

He narrowed his eyes. They sure knew what they wanted before even looking at the menu. Have they been here before? He banished the thought due to the fact that many of the regulars were gaping at Bruce. They seemed to know the menu well. Either they had been watching Barry and Clark or they simply looked up the menu  _before_ catching up with them.

Knowing Bruce, it was likely the former. But why?

The waitress cleared the remaining dishes from the table—stammering in Bruce’s presence while tucking strands of long hair behind her ears—before heading to her next customers.

Silence reigned as Clark sipped gingerly at the scalding drink. He tried not to fidget under the stares aimed at him. He felt alone and wished he escaped to the bathroom with Barry.

His friends had shunned him, completely neglecting his feelings. He felt greatly disrespected yet due to his own generous nature, he couldn’t turn them away. Therefore he waited for one of them to speak first, because it wasn’t going to be him. He truly had nothing to say until he sorted himself out.

Hal cleared his throat. Of course _he_ would be the one to begin.

“So.” It was careful. He held his breath. “You and Barry.”

Clark raised his head so that he could monitor Hal. The brunette reposed with his arms resting on the booth. He didn’t understand. Hadn’t Hal seen them dining together before he impeded? Barry had specifically told him that additional people were unwanted. They were the only two at the table.

“Yes.” A simple confirmation of the obvious that confused Clark. Was it truly necessary? Did he think that they were waiting for others? Bruce would have told him that Clark specifically stated he preferred to speak with Barry alone.

His brow creased as Bruce inhaled sharply while Hal simply stared at him, the emotion in his eyes oddly familiar.

Looking towards the patrons of the diner, he whispered bitterly, “That’s good. I hope you two are happy.”

A pensive frown covered Clark’s face. Happy about what? Their circumstances? Deciding not to reveal what they were speaking about, Clark chose to be vague. “I don’t know about that. Barry told me he is. I still feel weird, but it’s not like how it was before.”

Envious metallic browns swung to take him in again. Clearly Hal awaited Clark’s explanation. He delicately chose his words, awed at the fact that he recognized _jealousy_ in Hal’s eyes.

It couldn’t be that he thought…

“I’ve never felt this way and I’m not sure that I want to. I talked to Barry about it and he understood.”

“Of course he would.” He jerked a shoulder casually, though his face revealed confliction. “He’s a great guy and deserves someone like that.”

Hal’s soft-spoken words reminded Clark of Barry’s declaration. “Yeah.” He chuckled, ripping open and pouring several packets of Splenda and creamer into his steaming mug. So Hal is interested in Barry? Good to know. “He is. And I hope he finds him. Or her.”

Bewilderment shone in Hal’s eyes before he slowly closed them. “You’re not dating Barry, are you?”

Clark paused while in the process of swirling his spoon within the black coffee so it could become a rich chocolate color. Being seen as a terribly naive person had some perks. He continued to play as an innocent lamb.

“No. Why would you think that?” He suckled on the spoon, delighting in the taste. Bright sincere blues never left Hal.

Hal blinked before emitting an amused snort. “ _Really_ , Bruce?”

Clark didn’t know what the question entailed, though he knew that he relished Hal’s bit of uneasiness. It wasn’t right, but he felt that he deserved just that much due to what Hal made him suffer.

Bringing the coffee to his lips, he focused on the bittersweet rich taste that singed his throat rather than the two men staring at him. A couple of packets of creamer were added and whirled before his action repeated. The dark contents stirred within mirrored how he currently felt: a mixture of inviting warmth drenched with syrupy goodness and tartness.

“That’s…a lot of sugar.” Hal’s eyebrows raised as Clark added a packet of honey.

“I like sweet things.” He didn’t need to explain himself. But imbibing in overloaded coffee was a secret pleasure and always made him happy.

“That’s something I didn’t know. Guess it counteracts with my saltiness. Especially after what I did yesterday.”

Clark viewed the darkening reddish sky that bathed Metropolis in an orange glow. He didn’t want to hear Hal go over what he said with Bruce next to him. His accusations weren’t entirely unfounded, but they scathed him all the same.

“I’m a dumbass Clark, alright?” Annoyed sapphires eyes flickered towards him. Hal pointed at Bruce. “He told me to say it or he’d break my arm.”

The unblinking stare told him he wouldn’t receive a response, so he resumed. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Everything I said, of course I know it’s not true. It’s just that when I found out, it drove me crazy. Because I’ve had to go through that—being ridiculed just because I was interested in guys rather than girls. To think that someone close to me would be going through that—I flipped out and there isn’t an excuse for it.”

Clark’s bosom clenched painfully as he adjusted his glasses. _Someone close to me._ No surprise really. Wouldn’t they be more companionable after lying naked together? Dark thoughts filtered through him. Luckily, the waitress returned with the additional orders, serving Bruce with extra care while gushing.

“I’m sorry.” He got out. “No one deserves to go through that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just happy that you didn’t knock me out. I deserved it.” Hal rolled his eyes at Bruce’s faux persona—the alluring smile with teeth shown, playful wink that promised something more—before he reverted to his intense scowl. “Bruce was more than happy to oblige.”

Observing Bruce’s charming display greatly unsettled him. Oh Rao. It happened with _women_ now? It made sense, though. He loved the man so anyone who tried to attract him _would_ unnerve Clark. Possessiveness laced with disgrace rose within him as he turned to the man beside him who coolly watched him.

“Bruce.” He whispered forlornly. “You didn’t?”

A lack of regret showed on his face. “I shouldn’t have told him.” He replied simply, using his knife and fork to cut into his omelet. “It should have been between us and I’m sorry for not keeping it that way. In a moment of vulnerability, I told him what I felt without thinking completely. Hal _reacts_ before he thinks. I should have known it would end in disaster.” He placed the food in his mouth to reveal that he finished speaking.

“You have more self-discipline than that, Bruce.” Clark chided softly.

Bruce swallowed. “I do in most areas of my life. But Hal interfered in a part that he was _never_ permitted.”

“He means ‘uncharted territory’.” Hal said offhandedly while waving his knife. The other man’s eyes narrowed and Clark regarded them quietly. He continued to grouse, bicuspids gnashing his tender steak. “That doesn’t mean you can knock me around though.”

Bruce’s observation of Hal threatened fatal injury as he spoke the next words. “It means” he articulated casually. “that when I tell you _not_ to invite yourself into my private business with Clark or _anyone_ , do not do it. I told you quite a few times.”

 _When did he tell him that?_ Clark wondered.

“You tell me a lot of things that I don’t listen to.”

“And you know the after-effects of what happens when you incur my wrath. For your sake, Hal, _do not_ do it again.”

“Are you threatening me, you son of a bitch?!” Hal gaped disbelievingly at him with widened eyes, mashed food apparent.

A chilling stare matched him as Bruce whispered smoothly. “It’s a promise.”

“Clark? _Clark_?” Hal seethed, anxiety flickering in his gaze. “Are you _hearing_ this? He just said that he’d kick my ass again if I try to help him! There has to be something that would _banish_ him from the League, right?”

That sounded like _real_ animosity.

An amused snort. “And who would take over strategizing the missions? _You_? You failed a simple task given when we fought Darkseid.”

That seemed like _severe_ disdain.

 _How can two people who clearly aren’t as amicable as I thought have sex_ , Clark mused.

“ _You_ can’t go Ike Turner on me whenever you want to let go of stress or need a punching bag! I _know_ that’s against the bylaws somewhere.”

“You _used_ to be good for relieving stress. The past few encounters should let you know that you’ve been _less_ than adequate to fulfill me if my focus is elsewhere.”

Did Bruce just say—?

“Un- _fucking_ -believable, you _narcissistic_ piece of—”

“You two talk about me in bed?”

Bruce poised with another portion of omelet while Hal stopped chewing his steak. Astonished faces turned to him.

Clark didn’t know how many times he would redden in the day, but it was sure to be a record. He forgot that the mogul Bruce was consistently hounded by gossip columnists. That meant if anyone had heard what he said, it would be a firestorm for Bruce.

“I mean—I just didn’t know that—”

“You know about that?” Hal’s skin paled as his copper eyes darted towards Bruce.

He nodded, dropping his voice an octave. “Um, yeah. Well, about you two—ah, _sleeping_ together. I didn’t know you _talked_ about me after you slept.”

With a slight shake of his head, Bruce turned towards his food, ingesting his bite. “He saw us once at the benefit.” He grumbled nonchalantly to Hal.

“Twice.” He whispered as softly as he could as Hal spoke.

 “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

 Bruce arched an eyebrow. “To what benefit would that have served? You would be uncomfortable. It’s not like he would have informed anyone.”

“I might not have stormed in and reamed his ass.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

Hal massaged his face with both hands, groaning. “Alright. I’m done. I try to _help_ your ungrateful ass—”

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“—you blindside me after I tell you—”

“What other response would I give when I _specifically_ told you to stay out of it?”

“—then you don’t tell me that the guy _you’re_ in love with has seen us have sex, leading me to be embarrassed _now_ when I could have avoided my insulting him. God, you are such an inconsiderate asshole.”

The commotion within the diner—from the crying baby tables from them to the loudly arguing fans from opposing teams—dimmed for them as Hal’s outburst sunk into the three.

Clark gaped at Bruce, disbelieving what he had heard. He became aware that it was truth as Bruce studiously avoided his gaze, gently setting down his fork, chewing and swallowing his mouthful of egg.

His visage darkened unwaveringly at Hal with each second. Icy eyes spoke of merciless retribution as he extricated his wallet. Bared teeth and tense jaw showed a failing struggle to control himself. Clenched fists wished for a repetition of what had happened to Hal earlier as a few hundreds were flung on the table.

“Oh fuck.” Hal immediately whispered regretfully. “Shit Bruce, I didn’t mean to let it out like that. I’m sorry.”

Not responding, Bruce stood abruptly, tucking his wallet into his pants. Discarding his half-eaten meal on the table, he set out towards the exit.

“Bruce!”

Clark called, rapidly scrambling out of the seat. Fumbling for wallet, he threw down a few bills and parted with Hal before chasing after the ruffled Bat.

“Bruce, please wait!”

Bruce was already crossing the street in the middle of traffic. He didn’t slow or show any inclination that he heard Clark, though Clark knew better.

Eying the oncoming cars, Clark darted towards him. “Bruce. For the love of Rao, _please_.”

He had reached his limo only to pause as Clark caught up with him. Cars blared at them—but whether it was for them to get out of the way or due to the recognition of Bruce Wayne, Clark didn’t know.

Bruce shifted minutely, indecipherable eyes trained in the distance. A few minutes slipped by and an edge of his lip turned down in annoyance.

Oh. Bruce wanted him to speak.

“Bruce, is what Hal said true?”

Promptly Bruce opened the door. Reaching out, Clark caught his arm before Bruce ease himself inside. He exerted only a small amount of his strength to keep Bruce in place.

Annoyed eyes flickered to his hand around his elbow and then to him. “Let. Go.”

“I just want to know if it’s true. It’d help _a lot_ if it was.” He pleaded, moving closer to him.

“I’m not telling you again.”

“Please, Bruce! I—” A wave of the most enticing fragrance hit him then. His thoughts skidded to a halt. “Is that new?”

Shrewd eyes watched him. “What?”

“Your cologne. I haven’t smelled it before.”

Bruce said nothing, turning to enter the limo as he tugged on his limb.

He scowled as Clark’s arm slipped around his waist. He raised his own to futilely shove him away. He ignored it as he crowded Bruce, trapping him against the limo. His face pressed against his neck as he moved his body against Bruce in an attempt to get closer. Deeply inhaling, he mumbled against his neck. “It _is_!”

“Clark!” The furious voice barely penetrated his drunken stupor.

A gentle swipe of his tongue made them both shiver. Bruce’s scent resided on his tongue now—tangy but sweet. The resistance that Bruce showed dampened as Clark sampled him. His fingers curled into Clark’s shirt, clutching instead of pushing him. His tense body relaxed against him as Clark dabbed along his neck.

“ _Cla-ark_.” It was more insistent yet…sensual.

“Oh Bruce.” Clark nearly moaned, rubbing against him excitedly while drinking in the scent. Was Bruce moving in tandem? “It’s amazing. You smell like rose—I think it’s rose. There’s some amber and…and is that jasmine? It’s divine. And your taste! Oh Rao, you taste like—”

Unrelenting tugging on his hair made him look up hazily to a…lust-filled but livid Bruce?

Rewinding the past few minutes, Clark quickly stepped away, gaze sweeping around to catch if anyone had noticed what happened. Thankfully, there were only a few people on the sidewalk. He returned to Bruce who had a hand in his pocket while the other covered his mouth, smoldering at him.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, casting his eyes down. “You _do_ smell good. I just get distracted easily.”

“You lead us.” The gravelly tone ground out. A tremble ran through Clark and he tongued his lips nervously. The residue of Bruce’s skin mingled with the scent remained on his lips. “You can’t afford to be distracted.”

“I can’t help it. It’s _you_.” He confessed desperately.

Clark guessed that Bruce warred with himself as he turned away from him. He thanked whatever part of him that led him to step away from the doorway.

“Get in.” He muttered, eyes not on him. Glimpsing between the stretch limo and Bruce, Clark opened his mouth to ask why when Bruce’s look stopped him.

Timidly entering, he felt Bruce get in after him to sit flush at his side. Clark’s heart raced, cheeks coloring as Bruce shut the door before hitting a button.

“Where to, sir?” An English accent flowed through the speaker.

“To the manor.” He stated to the driver hidden behind the partition.

“But I have work in the morning.” Clark protested.

Arcing an eyebrow, Bruce muttered, “After _that_  exhibition, you don’t. It’s best if you lie low for a few days.”

His blush intensified as he understood Bruce’s reply.

“Very good, sir.” Alfred Pennyworth responded. “And if I may so, it’s very good to see you as well, Master Clark.”

“You too, Alfred.” Clark murmured, hoping that Alfred hadn’t seen his display.

As the limo headed into traffic, Clark became aware of the intimacy of the situation. He resided in an enclosed space with the man he loved. Due to the fact they sat so close, whenever he shifted, they touched. Blue eyes penetrated the other, each revealing a longing that both wished to disclose.

“Um…” He sputtered, heart racing at the proximity of Bruce and his overpowering scent. “I can sit across from you if you want.”

Bruce gestured towards the opposite seat, brushing against Clark on the way. “I’m quite comfortable. If you’re not, be my guest. I wouldn’t want to discomfort you anymore than I already have.”

“You haven’t.” He mumbled out, trying his best to ignore the hand resettled on his leg. The thumb caressed him casually as Bruce peered out at Metropolis blurring past.

It was what he wanted but the last thing he would ever want to do would be to have Superman sullied in any manner. Or Clark Kent when he simply wanted to conform.

“Come now, Clark.” Bruce whispered despondently. “I’ve treated you atrociously in the past few months. The reason isn’t a valid one in my opinion. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

Did Bruce know what he was doing to Clark _now_? His fingers massaged the fabric beneath them in lazy circles. The touch screamed of _intimacy_ and made his trousers tighten in the groin.

Clark responded albeit roughly, eyeing the hand. Bruce definitely knew what he was doing. “I wish you would have talked to me instead of pushed me away.”

The gentle touches pressed harder. “I _tried_.” He groused agitated. Then paused before saying, “I…didn’t know how to.”

“The debonair philanderer is suddenly at a loss for words?” Clark teased. His breath hitched as he watched the hand slide towards his thigh.

“There are a lot of unknowns about this situation.” Bruce retorted calmly and when Clark lifted his eyes, turbulent blues captured him. Their faces mere inches away…“For what it’s worth, I’m very sorry for what I did.”

He stifled a needy groan. Bruce is _so_ close…

“Me too.” Clark stammered, the familiar sensation of base impulses rising to overtake his conscious processes creeping up. “I’m sorry for cornering you.”

Amusement showed on Bruce with an upturn of his lips. “That’s what you’re apologizing for? Not for watching me have sex twice without my permission? Or dry-fucking me against my limo in public? Or licking me?”

So Bruce _did_ hear Clark whisper. “You caught that, huh?” Realization dawned on him as he groaned. “Oh Bruce. What if someone saw?”

“I’m sure all of Metropolis saw.” Clark glared at man relishing in his discomfort. “But it worked out. Alfred thinks it’s past time that I go steady and I feel the same way.”

“He’s right, I guess.” He muttered, letting the jealousy show. “You can’t be a playboy _all_ of your life.”

Bruce said nothing. He simply smirked, eyes twinkling with hilarity. Clark blinked rapidly. “You don’t mean—me? _Us_?”

In answer, Bruce leaned the rest of the way to bring their mouths together.

Clark sighed against Bruce, affection bursting within him. Kissing Bruce felt so different than his teenage years with Lana Lang or the few times with Lois to ensure their cover was not blown. His five o’clock shadow scratched his face. His hard lips were a stark contrast to the soft ones of his life which excited him. He found himself fighting for dominance instead of the expectation to overpower.

Fingers tangled in his hair to press him against him. He tentatively grasped his hips which led Bruce to slide onto his lap. A tongue flicked frantically against his lips _begging_ to enter. As they separated, Bruce slipped in, assaulting his mouth tenderly.

Enthusiastically, Clark flavored the strong taste the coffee on his breath, the peppered eggs, and buttery sautéed vegetables. Willing his tongue to curl around him, they possessively devoured.  His body grinded into him, erection rubbing into the hardness of Bruce. He made a sound _very_ uncharacteristic of himself.

He _moaned_.

Dark feelings stirred within him. Clark enjoyed this too much. Hal had been on the receiving end of this treatment as well. And true heroes were not meant to have a vested self-interest in who they protected.

He broke the kiss by turning his head. It didn’t perturb Bruce who set about unbuttoning his shirt, nipping at his neck.

“Bruce.”

The man made quick work with his hands. His shirt was free of his pants and his belt torn off. Clark took hold of the hand that now worked on unfastening his trousers. He felt the slight struggle that Bruce gave before rising to take in Clark.

The epitome of seduction perched on his lap. Flawless hair only added to the kissable lips, electric eyes consumed with lust and love, and hard pants that warned of an untamed beast desiring to be unleashed. His pallor now suffused with a gentle pink complemented the excitement between his thighs.

Anxiety swept through Clark. He suspected that his feelings would be returned, but there were plenty of complications. Paparazzi surrounded Bruce and a major reason why Clark’s disguise worked is due to him being inconspicuous. In addition, his thoughts troubled him.

He wanted to indulge himself, but what of the antagonists?

Watching the turmoil afflict him, Bruce whispered as he settled his hands on either side of Clark. “Why do you feel an aversion to being attracted to another man?”

Clark didn’t respond immediately, avoiding his eyes. “Hal told you?”

“He did. It coincided with how you were disgusted when I last spoke to you. Even if he hadn’t, your previous declaration that you never felt a particular way and how you still feel weird about it would have led me to the same conclusion.”

“Right.” Clark chuckled humorlessly. “Anything ever escape your notice?”

“The fact that you were facing all of this alone when no one should.” His smile faltered. “Is it because it’s never happened before? You think that it’s unnatural?”

“No” He spoke haltingly. “It’s one of the things that made me feel _normal_. I’m constantly reminded by every minute action that I perform that I’m not human. There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to the same-sex, but people are judged due to it. No one judges someone for being straight. It gave me peace.”

His glasses were slipped off of him without complaint. He bit his lip as Bruce gently brushed his nose along. He wanted this…

“Clark.” A yearning sigh escaped them both.

“Human sexuality is fluid. Many people think that they’re a certain way when, if the right circumstances presented themselves, they’d find out something completely different.”

Gently, Bruce’s lips brushed along his face and neck. A wanting sob left Clark. He needed this…

“ _That’s_ normal, Clark. And you should know as well as I do that the opinions of those who would belittle another because they’re _different_ aren’t opinions that matter.”

“But it’s hard.” He mumbled weakly.

“It takes time to adjust, true, but if you don’t fight it at every turn, it becomes easier and embeds into your life. It soon becomes unnoticeable.”

“Was it that way for you?” Bruce peered at Clark to see haunted eyes. It broke his heart. He decided to alleviate some of Clark’s turmoil through loving caresses.

He whispered softly, twirling a lock of his hair. “Yes. But my situation is a bit different. It’s more of latent sexuality rather than repressed like you. I didn’t become interested in men until a certain hero made himself known.”

Small circles from his thumb were made on the base of Clark’s neck. “His annoying persistence and grave naiveté endeared me to the point that I wanted to keep away from him.”

His captivating smile that lit up any room blessed his face, even if it was small.

Veering towards him, he brought his neck as close to Clark’s nose as he could. He heard the sharp inhale and the shuddering moan that reverberated throughout the larger man’s body. He frowned as he peripherally viewed Clark whisk his head away, resting it on the seat in a fruitless effort to escape his scent.

“It’s like quicksand—the more you fight, the deeper you sink. So I stopped fighting.”

Grabbing the sides of Clark’s face, he turned it up to face him. Wanton _need_ underlie the anguish in those oceanic blues.

“ _You_ stopped fighting? That’s impossible.” He mumbled, soft kisses brushing against his face and neck.

“But I never felt shame about my feelings, not once. I just thought they’d get in the way of Batman then the League. I tried to keep them at bay, Clark.”

“Is that why you asked me to dinner then?” Anticipation swept through him.

 “In truth, my feelings began to disrupt my work so it was a bit late when I asked you. I felt a rejection would put myself back into perspective. I just didn’t expect the words that came out of your mouth.”

Clark could easily move out of Bruce’s grasp, but he preferred his current position. The rawness of the man above him was unfurling as he showered him with affection.

Modestly, he stammered. “Is that when your…thing with Hal started?”

“Not exactly. I needed a diversion. Sex was the best outlet for my frustration and he willingly gave it.”

 _I bet_. Clark thought, thinking back to how _happy_ Hal looked riding Bruce.

“Frustration?” He barely concealed the underlying envy.

He hesitated. “You… _laughed_ , Clark. You said it distressed you.”

Clark understood without it being said. He had—though unintentionally—hurt Bruce. Overwhelming regret washed through him, showing in his eyes.

“Bruce, I…I didn’t know that you were being serious.” He pleaded his case. “I truly thought that you were teasing me. No man’s ever asked me out like that and I didn’t know how to respond. I’m so sorry—”

“And the incident with the gauze?”

He recalled what Bruce stated dejectedly. “All of these emotions bombarded me after I saw you two. I know that I could never lie to you, Bruce, and get away with it. I tried because I didn’t want you to know that I saw. But I promise I wasn’t mocking you and I thought I had a good reason to lie.”

Melancholic blue eyes beseeched Bruce for forgiveness.

He huffed, his own voltaic gaze struggling to remain stern. “Just don’t lie to me again.”

“That goes for you dodging me whenever I make a mistake.” A lop-sided grin graced Clark’s face which soon melted into a simper. “Talk to me, Bruce, instead of…venting your frustrations with Hal.”

“Easily done. I’ve stopped visiting him anyway.”

“I—Can I know when you two started?”

Bruce observed Clark carefully, a frown tugging at his edges. “It was before all of this, Clark. During the Andromeda mission.”

“Oh.” He whispered morosely, forlorn eyes cast anywhere except him. That _hurt_. True, he didn’t know that he felt for Bruce and he wanted them to get along, but not really _that_ well.

“It was just sex, Clark.” Bruce muttered humbly in a vain effort to coax Clark towards him. “It meant nothing and was the only way that I could stand to be around him _during_ the mission. We didn’t begin again until after I asked you on a date.”

“But you’ve _kissed_.” Accusatory eyes snapped towards him. He was beginning to get emotional. “You don’t kiss someone you tolerate.”

His nostrils flared as his jaw set. He didn’t look at Clark nor did he move off of him. “We’re… _passionate_ , yes. Once we get going, we lose ourselves in it. But I only thought of _you_ , Clark. I know it doesn’t make you feel better since I’ve been sleeping with him. But it’s true. Ask Hal how many times I called your name in bed.”

“I thought you said _Hal_.” Clark exclaimed, his heart thudding. Joy swirled within him at the knowledge of Bruce wanting him all this time, but shame teased at its edges.

“You listened.” Eyes sharpened on him making his cheeks burned. “I thought you only _saw_.”

“Well, it—people were wondering where you were and—”

“I’ve never called Hal’s name during sex.” He cut in. “He’s good, but even _thinking_ about you is better.”

“Oh.” Happiness filled him. “That’s…good. I guess.”

“Did you get hard?”

Virtuous sapphires ogled at him. “Wh-What?”

Bruce examined Clark. “When you saw us twice, were you stimulated in any way?”

“Emotionally, I guess.” He murmured, not wanting to dwell on that tumultuous time. “I was too confused and hurt to do much else.”

“Are you telling me that you only become aroused when you’re emotionally invested in someone?”

Clark cautiously surveyed him. “Yeah. It’s not like I can’t find other people attractive. I just don’t want to sleep with them unless if I have an emotional connection. Rather I _can’t_ because I don’t get aroused.” He paused briefly. “Is that weird?”

“No.” He said a little too quickly causing Clark to worry. “That’s how some people are. Do you really think it’s better to be like I am—someone who can be aroused by anyone that he finds attractive?”

“I don’t want to compare situations to find who is better off, Bruce.” He muttered morosely.

“But that’s what _you’ve_ been doing all along. You stress over situations beyond your control because you think it will inadvertently reveal Superman’s identity and make you seem less human.”

“A hero is meant to be a paragon of the people—someone who, in life, is unaffected by the unfortunate troubles but seeks to help.”

Bruce bent his head slightly at the words. With surprise, Clark saw flashes of anger and anguish travel through his face. “A hero can also be the product of his environment, promising his life to rid the world of the pain that he suffered.”

 Understanding crashed into him hard enough that he gasped. “I didn’t mean to say that _you_ aren’t a hero, Bruce.”

“Just not as good or worthy of the term than those who are fortunate enough to not experience whatever they fight.”

“Of _course_ you are—”

“Do you think that the rich tycoons and sycophants who cater to me are heroes, Clark? They write large checks to plenty of my humanitarian causes and most have an ulterior motive for doing so.” Bruce’s voice was faint, but drenched in ire. “What about those who spend a year or two abroad working in third-world countries to come back to their lavish lifestyle? Or those who petition for aid to be given to the destitute but do nothing more? They _all_ help in a way but not many have pledged or dedicated their lives to it.

“We can disagree on the subjective terms of a hero. But I find that one bred from the injustice—one who has endured as many others have—tends to have a more realistic perspective than those who have not. And it is more honorable due to the high possibility of the hero being led astray instead of choosing a less-trodden path.”

His eyes bore into Clark’s then, earnest and severe. “In saying that, your sexuality or anything else that you can’t control doesn’t define you, Clark. They are a part of you and can empower you to make moral decisions, but they are not _Clark Kent_. I personally believe that you differing from the norm—that you being on the opposite side of the majority—is a good thing. You _empathize_ with the misfortunes of others instead of _sympathizing_. That is more powerful to me.”

As Clark listened to his love speak, the gut-wrenching revulsion lessened. Contempt didn’t tear at him as forcibly. The angst within him vacated. It almost felt like peace…

“How do you feel?”

Bruce had been staring down at him for some time. A broad smile overtook him. “Better.” He whispered sincerely. “Thank you.”

“Mm.” He responded, adoration replacing his austere look. “Just know that normality isn’t relative: only in clinical settings. There are varied definitions of it depending upon society, beliefs and other social structures. Not to mention that the _typical_ man tends to bore me, if it helps.”

Clark’s eyes were still on his as his fingers slid down, working on freeing his bulge. “Once you realize that you can’t help who you are and that no one has the right to shame you for something you can’t control, you’ll be able to enjoy this a lot more.”

“Enjoy what?” He mumbled dazed. Then gasped as a warm hand pulled his cock from his boxers.

“Does this feel dirty? Dehumanizing or degrading in any way?”

“N-no.” He groaned out. Bruce looked upon him with eyes that _seemed_ detached, but fondness lied beneath the surface.

“Ignore your lust, Clark. Is there anything negative associated with my touching you?”

It was hard to do since he pulsed in Bruce’s grasp. He ached to push against his hand. Settling for widening his legs, he sought any turmoil within. Loathing bubbled beneath the affection he felt for Bruce. He whimpered. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Disg _uh_ st.”

“Due to what we discussed?”

He shook his head, shivering as Bruce calmly fisted him. “No. _Mm_. What you’ve told me I can, _ah_ , work on. Think of it in a new, _uh_ , perspective.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“ _No_.” He hid himself in Bruce’s neck. Perhaps unwise due to each inhale being that of _Bruce_ and his cologne. “ _Please_ don’t, Bruce.”

“What do you want?”

“I, _oh_ , want you to _mm_ -move faster.” In an effort to get Bruce to do so, Clark pushed against his hand.

“Mm. I want that too.” A lust-laden growl wafted to him. “But you’re repulsed by this—”

“Not by _you-ah_!” He clutched his hips harder, Bruce stroking him fervently.

“Then _what_?”

A heady sensation began to build inside of him. “P-people will judge me.” He nearly sobbed out.

“Everyone is judged until they die, Clark.” Bruce embraced his neck, burying his face into his hair. “Isn’t this what you want? Doesn’t it feel right?”

“ _Yess_.” He hissed, shivering against him. The warm palm moving along his shaft felt marvelous, the thumb rubbing across his slit moan-inducing, the slight twist at the end pulling whimpers from him.

“Then why deny yourself this due to others who may be jealous or only wish to tear you down? Why refuse pleasure that you deserve merely to sate the misguided unease from others?”

Bruce jerked on his cock relentlessly now. Clark pistoned the tight grip feverishly. “B _uh_ c _uh_ se its’ s _ah_ lfish.”

“Is it selfish to live your life? To satisfy your indulgences if it harms no one and isn’t illegal? _Those_ people are selfish to ask or prohibit you from gratifying yourself when you have no fault in its creation. Yet you would still protect them because you are the single most selfless being on this planet. We should be _honored_ that you wish to be one of us.”

Inexplicable emotions imbued him due to his love’s words. He felt Bruce nestle within his hair, clinging to him as he fawned over him.

“The only individual whose perception matters is the one in the mirror. _You_ are the one giving others power over you by allowing their words and beliefs to affect you. _You_ must live your life—no one else can.”

“ _Bah_ you still _gooh_ with wo _mm_ en when _yah_ don’t prefer the _mm_.”

“I’ve wanted to stop for a very long time, Clark. And I can all thanks to you. I won’t miss it. Is it selfish of me to choose _you_ over a life of unbearable loneliness?”

Clark threw his head back onto the seat, unable to stop his hips from throwing into Bruce’s zealous jerking. He couldn’t respond, hard breaths and dizzying contentment keeping him at bay. His lover appeared above him, speaking against his lips.

“If you try to please everyone, you will fail. It will lead you to feel as you are. Isn’t it much better to feel like _this_? To not deny yourself what _you_ want because other people may not agree? It is not their business to dictate what or _who_ you do. It is _your_ choice. Never let someone try and take what rightfully belongs to you. _Ever_.”

With a sharp cry, Clark’s cum burst from him. In hindsight, he should have warned Bruce about the _amount_ of cum that spurted from him whenever he climaxed. Thick globs of semen drenched Bruce’s hand and clothes, messing the seat with few droplets splashing against himself.

Trying to control his respirations, he felt Bruce’s gentle tugs on his still hard and leaking member. He supposed he should have enlightened Bruce to Kryptonian physiology as well. But how could he mind when he heard lusty moans brought about _by_ him?

As if reading his mind, Bruce whispered, “I know that you require multiple climaxes. I just wanted to ensure that you finished _this_ one completely.”

Mewling through lidded eyes, he watched Bruce sampling his cum with a slow lick of his hand. A lewd smirk played on his lips as he stared down at a mussed Clark, happily sated for the time being.

“Mm. Delicious.” He rumbled huskily. “It’s warmer than other males…which adds to the flavor. Definitely a positive for being different.” He then looked down at themselves, unbuttoning his shirt as he chuckled. “And you make such a _mess_. Lucky for you, I love your cum and don’t mind.”

“I guess I hit the jackpot.” He murmured as Bruce began to discard his clothing haphazardly. The fact that Bruce _liked_ his sexual nuances that separated him from others warmed him considerably.

“Only once. I expect to make you hit it a couple of more times.” Bruce slid off the seat to settle on his knees between Clark. Palming him again, he murmured, “I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to do. But I have to tell you, I want you in my mouth.”

“Wh-Wh _ah_ bout—”

“Don’t think about him, Clark.” Bruce dragged his tongue around his lips, his cock precariously close. “This is between _you_ and _me_. No one else is invited.”

Clark jolted, keening as Bruce’s tongue swiped at his glistening head.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” He ran his hand along Clark’s thigh. “But I’m restraining myself, Clark. I want to help you get rid of that poisonous mindset. I know you love to talk.

But perhaps the best way to do so is by giving you the best orgasms of your life. Keep in mind that it’s from someone who loves but doesn’t deserve you.”

“Th _ah_ way of thinking is j _uh_ st as dangerous.”

“We can help each other out then by giving us what we need.” At that, he engulfed him.

Blessed heat suffocated him on all sides. Fierce licks tickled as they stimulated any part they reached. His cock throbbed against his tongue as he filled his too-tight mouth. Curling fingers into his hair, he dared to gently shove himself smoothly in. Then out.

The sight he beheld would forever be ingrained in his memory. Bruce steadily moved his head on his cum-soaked shaft, bathing it lovingly. He hummed with delight sending a thrilling sensation through him. Reverent eyes lay upon him in a show of utter devotion.

The blooming warmth began to spread through him again. He’d never cum so close after the first. Bruce was unbelievable in so many ways…

Probing within his abandoned trousers, Bruce grabbed a packet of lube, deftly devouring him as he slid it into Clark’s hand. Such a simple act spurred his feelings for the man lavishing his cock with such love. Bruce was giving him a choice: they could simply stop after Bruce sucked him dry or Clark could prepare him. It was clear what Bruce wished as he leaned over Clark, spreading his legs as he moved his hand down to jerk himself.

But he couldn’t focus. He wished to bend over and delve his fingers into Bruce’s ass, hearing the lewd squelching as his fingers were greedily suckled. Yet he didn’t want to miss a moment of Bruce relishing him.  He appreciated the lazy pace—he could revel in every detail from Bruce’s eyes fluttering close as his cock hit his throat to the obscured sounds of contentment rumbling around his cock.

And Bruce becoming motionless as Clark came. He clawed the seat next to him as he poured into him, more forcefully than the last. He felt Bruce swallow whenever his mouth became full, intent on consuming all of his delicious cum. He groaned as he spent himself but realized he was still achingly swollen.

“Still hard I see.” Bruce smirked after he pulled off of him, mouth coated in cum. “Perfect.”

“Bruce…” Clark murmured, upset with no idea why.

“You’re not going to hurt me.” Bruce rose to straddle his lap, ensuring their bodies touched along the way. “Let me help you see how we are together. And if you don’t want me after this, then we can stop. But let me treat you, Clark.”

He didn’t respond, trying to catch his breath. Bruce’s fingers delved into his to retrieve the undamaged packet of lube, bringing it between them.

“Look at this. You didn’t even crumple the package though my seat needs to be repaired.”

A quick glimpse at the seat showed heavy gashes. Face revealing contrition, Clark began to fumble an apology. Bruce refused to hear it and stuck his tongue into him.

This was new. Clark moaned into Bruce’s mouth as he tasted himself—slightly bitter and unnaturally hot. He kept his face against him by bracing his hands on his neck. Caressing against another tongue sensually never felt this good. He felt as he wanted to utterly consume the other man, his desire that passionate.

Bruce tore the packet open, smearing the lube onto his fingers before reaching behind him to prepare himself. It was quick—his cock could barely stand more neglect. Clark conceived that Bruce was belaying his own satisfaction as he grabbed hold of Clark’s length. That’s not what he wanted.

 “Wait.” He broke away, breathless. Rambling on before Bruce could get the wrong idea, he whispered, “I want to do this right. I want you to be comfortable.”

He regarded Clark for a few seconds before extricating himself from his hold. Lying back on the carpet, he opened his legs to give him a perfect view of his dampened hole.

“I want you, Clark.” Bruce muttered, watching the effect that his words had on him. “I want you to take what no else has ever been given. Or ever will.”

“No one?” He choked out and Bruce maneuvered a hand down his body, grasping his cock.

“No one.”

In a split second, a naked Clark gripped his wrists above his head, frame pressed against him. He hid against Bruce’s shoulder, a tenuous internal battle waging as he struggled against doing what he wanted and what he believed he should.

Bruce wrapped his legs around his waist so that his cock nudged at his entrance.

“You have incredible self-restraint.” He chuckled, breath cascading against his cheek. “I’m telling you I want you and your cock and you’re still holding off.”

“I just want to make sure…” He trailed off hesitantly.

“This is what I want. This is nothing like what happened with Hal. This is what I’ve wanted for a very long time.”

His solemn eyes and voice compelled Clark to drive forward, easing himself slowly into Bruce. He watched pain sprout on his face, exhaling through gritted teeth as dug his nails into his shoulders.

“Is it too much?” He whispered roughly, starting to pull out.

A quick shake of his head and the heels digging into his back let him know that Bruce was fine with it.

His visage soon blossomed into pleasure as Clark began to move.

Bruce isn't the only one not used to having sex this way. Clark never performed anal on any of his lovers—they hadn’t wished it and he didn’t mind. But he found out what he had missed as he immersed himself into Bruce: muscles clenched tightly around him so he never wanted to pull out, the welcoming heat embracing him as he dove back in, his cock titillated in every way as he passionately thrust in.

And Bruce is so besotting…He moaned wantonly, needy sighs murmuring _Kal_ , matching each roll of Clark’s hips with a push of his own. The once porcelain skin beautified with scars was now painted champagne pink, sheen with sweat. Shadowed cyan eyes enthralled him as they hinted at undying devotion underneath damp hair.

Their bodies skimmed grazed, nipples kissing as they brushed, Clark touching along Bruce’s body—tracing scars with fingertips, twirling black locks, biting that tempting neck before he drifted between them to take hold of Bruce. His pants weren’t from exertion but withholding himself from finishing too early.

That seemed moot as Bruce’s exhalations grew with each firm stroke and deep penetration. Having cum twice before would usually render the next to be quick, his cock over-sensitive. The sight of his cock vanishing between succulent cheeks didn’t help. He wavered on the brink, desiring Bruce to cum first before he filled him in a place specifically reserved for him.

A rush of emotions sailed through him, but for once, none of them were debilitating. Even if they never did this again, he was over-joyed to have made love to Bruce, ecstatic that his love was returned, and serene with the decision to drown his stresses. He seized the lips of the man who infused him with strength to defy his darkest insecurities.

Tenderly, he unwrapped Bruce’s legs around him so that he could roll them over, Bruce astride him. The new position didn’t disorient him as he enthusiastically descended his girth, forearms braced over Clark’s head. Clark pounded just as diligently, pumping Bruce readily while he held snaked an arm around his waist, non-perspiring body slick with the pheromones of his lover.

 _Oh_ he wished he did so they would mix. He’d lick their intermingling drops to his heart’s content as Bruce writhed beneath him. Tangoing with Bruce’s tongue is an excellent substitute though. They delved into their mouths, endeavoring to map every inch with their touch, breathing hard through their nose while sucking the air out of each other.

Clark continued on towards his neck after nipping kiss-swollen lips, biting the nape to emit a loud groan from him. The ever-present scent pervaded his nostrils as it intertwined with Bruce’s sweat. He spoiled himself as his tongue glossed over taut muscle.

“ _Kal_.” Bruce moaned as cum surged from him, coating their slick bodies and Clark’s fingers.

“ _Bruce_.” He cried as his own essence flooded inside of him to the point that it began to seep out. Bruce collapsed atop of him with a grunt as Clark finished unloading into him. Cum streamed down his legs and along Clark.

They lie on the floor, the darkened sky and tinted windows obscuring them. As they recovered, Clark brought his hand from between them, eying the spunk on his fingers. If it was anything like the rest of Bruce, it would be indescribable.

Bruce watched him gently dab at his fingers, delighting in the flavor tingling on his tongue. A slightly warm bitterness that he would imbibe constantly if he could. “If this is how you taste, Bruce, I think I love yours too.”

“You _think._ ”

“I _know_.”

He smiled as Bruce pressed their lips together. “How was your first time?”

“Better than anything I’ve ever had.” He shuddered as Bruce’s lips caressed his ear.

“Now that you realize how prodigious love-making with a man can be,” Bruce murmured against his ear. “We need to do something about that severely ingrained case of cognitive dissonance that afflicts you.”


	6. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry Allen tries to forget his loss with Hal Jordan. Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne grow closer.

_**~*~*~Barry Allen's Apartment: Central City: Months Later~*~*~** _

“Shit!” Barry pulled out of Hal gradually before flopping down next to him. He covered his eyes with his arms as he breathed heavily. “I’m _never_ going to forget him.”

The blond almost had him. Even though Clark confessed to wanting Bruce, he _saw_ the interest in his eyes.  Clark had been comforted by his touch. Barry made him smile. He didn’t seem perturbed by Barry divulging that he wanted him. Maybe if they had a little more time…

Moist sensations on his sensitive cock and leisurely motions along it made him moan. “Damn, Hal. I’m trying to talk.”

Right. Fucking impulsive Hal had impeded on what little headway Barry made. Unfortunately, the Prince of Gotham had been there in all of his glory, looking perfectly _im_ perfect in the cozy diner. Damn near _everyone_ paled in comparison to him—and Barry could see the interest wink out of Clark as he took in the Bat’s form. His concession that Hal and Bruce leave hadn’t been entirely altruistic…or his flight to the restroom that necessary.

“If I haven’t made you forget about Superman, I’m not doing a good job.”

“Not only him, but _Bruce_. You saw how they almost got themselves off in front of everyone. I didn’t even know Bats could act like that.”

After calming himself down from being slighted unintentionally, he had returned to his table to find the two men missing. Hal’s face would have been priceless if Barry hadn’t followed his gaze and mirrored him. Watching good-natured Clark and permanently steely-moue Bruce nearly _rutting_ against a limo in _public_ then disappear inside of it to most definitely fuck hadn’t been what he expected to see.

He wondered what they thought after seeing the next day’s headline splashed everywhere: _Prince of Gotham Corrupts Journalistic Integrity_. He half-expected them to hide or do damage control, but they seemed unperturbed. In fact, they _came out_ to the press that they were dating soon after, affectionate gazes exchanged as cameras flashed.

Fearless in the face of controversy—that’s why they led the League.

“Are you saying that I’m _bad_?” Barry shot him a glare from beneath his arms as Hal stopped his hand. Snickering, he settled between Barry’s legs while pulling on his cock again. “I admit. It was pretty damn hot. But those two have nothing on you.”

He spread his legs further, resettling his arms beneath his head. An eyebrow raised as he cynically looked upon his best friend turned fuck-buddy. “You’ve rolled around in Bruce’s sheets plenty. And you’re telling me that _I’m_ better?”

“It’s…different.” Hal absentmindedly ran his thumb over Barry’s head, making him grit his teeth. “He’s one of the best I’ve ever had. But seriously, Bar, I’ve never cum as hard as I have in my life since fucking you. I’m not counting the one where you pulled me into the diner bathroom to suck me off. I wasn’t ready then.”

At that, Hal began to service him, swallowing his cock whole.

Oh yeah. After seeing those two basically dry-fuck in public, he needed to _do_ something to someone. He actually scanned the diner for any appetizing women to pursue—those who weren’t plastered against the window to watch an indecent Bruce Wayne. His eyes chanced upon Hal.

He gave into his whims, snatching Hal’s hand who gave an undignified yelp as he dragged him towards the restroom. Pushing a stumbling Hal in, he followed after, locking the door. Hal’s face contorted with rage soon melted into flushed bliss when Barry got to his knees, used his super speed to free his cock, and took his cock in his mouth.

Sure, the bathroom smelled like piss and the floor caked with dirt. It wasn’t the _ideal_ place to give his first blow-job, but he wasn’t running to Central or Coast City with a massive hard-on. Or dealing with the hassle of finding a man to get to know so he could blow.

“I was so turned on even though we didn’t _see_ anything.” He moaned as Hal’s tongue swirled around his head before he plunged to take him in again. But they both _knew_. Clark and Bruce had fucked each other, burning a hole in the seats and Bruce suffering from rug abrasions.

They also knew better than to comment on Bruce’s apparent stiffness after one of their sessions. Hal had simply said ‘Congratulations’ with an all-knowing leer once and Batman had him against the wall within seconds, cutting of his breathing with one hand while the other held his ring. Hal had been too surprised to focus and Barry couldn’t pry Batman’s fingers off of him when he realized what happened.

_“What did I say about involving yourself in my business that I did not allow?”_

Stark cold fear crept through Barry as he realized that Batman was _calm_ , intent on choking the life out of his teammate. Raising a fist to strike him earned him a simple tilt of his head and an unspoken _Do you want to be next_?

Hal was near to passing out as he scrabbled at Bruce's hand. Barry had reared back even though he felt rooted in fear. A large crimson and azure form gently landed, cape billowing behind him as he caught his fist.

Sighing, Superman pushed his hand down while turning to Batman. _“Let him go, Bruce.”_

_“I’ll hold on long enough to teach a lesson.”_

He then whispered into his ear as he gently removed the fingers from Hal’s throat. Hal took a large gulp of air, Superman inquiring if the Lantern was hurt. After being assuaged, they had both walked away—or rather Superman _led_ them away, a firm hand on Batman’s back though hidden beneath his black cape—Batman tossing the ring to Hal without a backward glance.

 _“Maybe you’ll learn this time.”_ His cool voice had floated back to them.

Hal threw plenty of obscenities at the retreating figure as Barry helped him up, heaving that Batman was _not_ allowed to assault League members—it was specifically against the goddamn bylaws—and he hoped Superman would reprimand his boyfriend _fairly_.

 _“Don’t I always, Hal?”_ Superman had thrown a sincere concerned look over his shoulder.

Barry knew for a fact that the only punishment Batman received was a merciless anal pounding by an immensely aroused Superman. Possibly due to the fact that Superman couldn’t seem to get over the fact that Batman and the Lantern had once used each other as simple distractions. 

He now stayed _far_ away from Superman’s room. Having heard those erotic moans for another man _hurt_ and once was enough. The tidbit of information was kept from Hal as well. Barry knew he would blow a fuse if he found out that Batman was treated to a massive cock and ass full of cum instead of a verbal lashing—unless if Hal counted blowjobs and unintelligible groans.

“And you had to blow _me_?” Hal had stopped sucking on him again. Did he usually talk this much with Bruce?

“Would you rather I have picked someone else? Maybe someone that doesn’t _talk_ alot?” Barry let annoyance trickle into his voice. Thanks to Hal fiddling with cock, it perked at attention and _demanded_ it.

“Hey asshole. _You_ started talking remember.” A painful slap made him nearly tackle Hal off the bed, but he settled for a dark smoldering look and gritted teeth. Barry could understand Bruce somewhat if this was how Hal acted around him _all_ the time. How did they ever get around to fucking?

“What does it matter, Hal? I looked around for anyone and you were the one that I grabbed.”

A strange look crossed his friend’s face. “So…it could have been anyone?”

Barry frowned, trying to place the emotion that Hal exhibited. “Yeah. Everyone was focused on them and you seemed—I don’t know. Right?” He shrugged.

“You mean _easy_.” Hal all but spat out.

Barry threw him a confused look. Where was this animosity coming from? True, _he_ had initiated their affair after swallowing his cum, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and telling Hal not so subtly he wouldn’t mind doing it again.

But _Hal_ had continued by whipping out a packet of lube and a condom from his wallet. _He_ let Barry shove inside of him as he braced against the bathroom sink. _He_ begged him to hammer into his ass relentlessly and with abandon until he came. And when they were done, the condom disposed of in the toilet, _he_ had proposed what they were doing now.

Hal accepted his open invitation and set up every one of their illicit trysts. Barry went along with it due to it being a welcome interference in trying to rid himself of the man he almost got.

But if it didn’t take but a little rough-housing to get Hal to bend over, Barry was glad that they were using condoms. Come to think of it, he knew _nothing_ about Hal’s sexual history besides Bruce, Carol Ferris, and himself. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“No.” He responded haltingly, furrowing his brow. “I mean that I don’t think I wanted a woman. Sure, I was looking for one but I bypassed _all_ of them. I wanted a man, but it wouldn’t look good to lock a random guy in the bathroom to blow him. I _knew_ you and took a calculated risk. It paid off.”

He flashed his most disarming grin, in an attempt to allay his friend.

To be frank, he didn’t want to talk. He wanted Hal to put his lips around his cock again so he could close his eyes and imagine Clark. If he were being truly honest, he didn’t like the noises that Hal made in bed. It was nothing akin to Clark’s moans as he pushed into Bruce. Both were screamers but while Hal is more raucous, Clark is more enticing. Hal is entirely too _vocal_ while Clark expressed himself with adorable sounds that drove Bruce crazy if his growls afterward were any indication. Hal liked dirty talk to make his partner cum while Clark most likely nuzzled and whispered his love while emptying himself in Bruce.

Clark didn’t curse either.

In essence, Hal _isn't_  Clark.

Therefore he much rather preferred Hal engulfing his cock when he _needed_ a release from Clark.

Note to self: Perhaps talking about another man in bed wasn’t the way to go. He also need to ensure he didn’t say Clark’s name whenever he came. He’d been _dangerously_ close last time…

Hal still seemed unsure as he looked down at him. Maybe he should project the blame onto himself.

Barry chuckled. “Look, Hal. I don’t think you’re easy. If anything _I_ am because of what I did. Even _if_ I picked someone else, what’s the probability that they’d have a condom _and_ lube ready to go? I got lucky and trust me, if I could go back and find someone who was well-prepared, I wouldn’t switch them for you.”

Barry felt bad somewhat for attempting to manipulate Hal, but after what he said about Clark—even with his apology that he found out about days later—it wasn’t the same between them. Clark had been _broken_ when he opened up and Bruce was progressively but surely gorilla gluing the fragments together. Barry wished it had been _him_ —he had seemed to be getting somewhere with Clark—but he knew that only Bruce could handle him.

What he said seemed to do the trick. Hal leered at him. “Who else would put up with you?” He teased before his head dipped.

Barry closed his eyes and focused on the tongue wetting his cock, circling his head. The heat surrounding him as it moved along and the salacious moans drew him further into his reverie. The sure fingers petting him affectionately as his cock was lovingly pampered.

 _Yes_. He thought, pushing into the warmth while clawing at the tangles of hair. _Clark_.

* * *

 

_**~*~*~Wayne Manor: Master Bedroom~*~*~** _

The soft Egyptian cotton felt like silk sensually draping his skin. The sliver of sunlight that slipped through the thick drapes rejuvenated his him. After last night’s escapades, it was necessary.

He never thought that his life could change so drastically. A few months ago, he wasn’t in a relationship, didn’t care for anyone as deeply, and had been merely content.

Now, he has a boyfriend who ravished him and vice versa, his love for him a bottomless pit, and happiness beamed from him daily.

He purred in delight.

“Clark.” The muffle against his neck made him smile.

He shifted noticeably with his arms around his lover’s waist, reveling in the low groan it caused him.

“ _Clark_. Stop it.” Batman’s growl warned of approaching danger, but a gentle push inside of him told of a different story.

A lazy thrust against him made a ruffle-haired Bruce appear in his sights, scowling terribly as he blinked sleep away. Clark simply nuzzled his face affectionately.

“I’m _tired_.” He gritted out.

Clark pouted, a wanting look soaking his eyes. Bruce pointedly ignored it, amusing him.

“Don’t do that.” Bruce snapped with a severe lack of vitriol. “We stopped not even four hours ago. Your nigh insatiable urges need to be restrained.”

“Mm. That’s not how I remember it.” He teased. Admittedly, Clark’s appetite for Bruce was more voracious than usual. But the indecent sounds Bruce made were definitely not complaints. Running his hands along his back, he whispered. “In fact, I’m sure _you_ are the reason why we’re like this.”

Subtle threats had been intoned if Clark even _thought_ of pulling Bruce out of him…which is why he currently remained impaled on him.

Bruce’s eyes became slits.

“I must say that is entirely _too_ much information, Master Clark.”

Clark whipped his head towards the window, coloring as Alfred opened the curtains. Sunlight bathed the room in a heavenly glow. They must look a sight, Bruce atop him with imminent threat exuding from him and Clark’s countenance aflush with embarrassment.

“Alfred.” The low voice hinted at something sinister.

“In my defense, Master Bruce, I knocked quite a few times before entering. After hearing _both_ of your voices, I knew you were astir.” He wheeled a silver cart around the bed towards them.

Sighing, Bruce addressed him. “What’s the point of having terrific hearing if you don’t utilize it for _this_ exact situation?”

Clark let slip a small grin, eyes glittering. “I suppose I can use it now.” He murmured.

Bruce’s keen mind caught the hidden implication. “You wouldn’t.” He stated challenging.

“I think I hear a lost girl crying in a forest in Malaysia.”

“You will never be allowed back in my bed.”

Clark made a show of rolling his eyes to the ceiling, contemplating with furrowed brows. “Well then I can see if _Barry_ would let me—”

A fierce gnarl erupted from Bruce before he savagely attacked his lips, Clark chuckling against him.

One of the memorable moments of recent had been a League debriefing after foiling Luthor’s attempts to create a new biological weapon. Flash had been enthusiastically engaging Superman when he laid a hand on his arm. It was a simple gesture, one that Superman didn’t think anything of, even though it lingered longer than necessary. He should have noticed the menacing glare that Batman gave them.

Then Flash had asked him on another ‘date’, winking at the word in a teasing reminder of their previous one. He stated that they didn’t get a chance to finish what they started since they’d been unfairly hindered by two League members. Superman laughed, agreeing when Batman appeared between them.

“ _Superman_.” Uh oh. He knew he was in trouble when Batman called him Superman instead of Clark. His tone was on edge and he barely looked his way. Instead, he aimed his lethal glower at Flash. “ _You’re needed_.”

“ _Rain check, ‘Supes_?” Flash mumbled, slowly backing away from the man radiating imminent danger. “ _I...forgot that I had something to do. Catch you around_.”

Sullenly, he trudged behind Batman, pitying glances thrown his way from Wonder Woman. They arrived at their quarters—too much to hope for that they’d be going to the laboratory—and Batman decowled while Superman awaited his latest misstep.

Bruce had simply ran a hand down his face, holding it over his mouth as he peered at him with indecipherable eyes before he spoke softly. “ _Do you know that he’s fascinated by you_?”

Chuckling, Superman floated towards him, pecking his temple. “ _I_ am _Superman._ ” He shrugged modestly. “ _Besides, he’s interesting too. He’s almost constantly hungry. Watching him eat is entertaining.”_

“ _He_ wants _. You. Clark._ ”

“ _What_?” Superman had been lazily circling Bruce, but stopped before him, mouth dropped open, trusting blues confused. “ _Oh Bruce, I know you’re almost never wrong._ ” He bypassed the scowl he earned. “ _But you don’t think you’re mistaken in this instance_?”

“ _No_.”

“ _I don’t mind the fact that you’re a little jealous_ —” His feet touched the floor and he moved to bring Bruce into his arms.

“ _I’m not jealous_.” Came the annoyed snort.

“— _but it’s_ Flash.”

“ _Were you not the one who stated that he had feelings towards you_?”

Superman had paused, a bit miffed that Bruce’s arms stayed rigidly at his side. Frowning, he agreed. “ _Yes, but_ —”

“ _So why would it be far-fetched that his attraction has_ grown?”

“ _Because he’s with Hal now_.”

Silence met him and he felt Bruce tense. Oh no.

“ _How do you know_?” He averted his eyes which, Bruce had told him, was his ‘tell’ and why he would never be his poker partner. The scrutinizing gaze drilled into him anyway. “ _You_ watched.” He accused.

“ _No_!” He dissented quickly. “ _I was looking for you here and, ah, came upon them_.”

“ _How long_?” It was said through gritted teeth.

He opened his mouth then closed it. “ _How long…_?” He questioned, revealing that he was unsure as to what Bruce asked.

“ _How long did you watch_?”

“ _Until I realized what they were doing and then I focused on your heartbeat_.” He blushed fiercely. “ _I’m not doing that again_.”

He heard a _You better not_ muttered beneath his breath. It had made him flush more—he loved a possessive Bruce.

“ _Even so, it doesn’t mean that Flash isn’t interested in you_.”

“ _Why do you think_?”

“ _He sits next to you in League meetings. He opts for monitor duty whenever you’re there. He touches you needlessly. His calls come at inappropriate times while his texts are unnecessary_.”

“ _I don’t think two in the morning is late for an ex-journalist or Superman and he wanted to see when I was free_.”

“ _We are in bed by that time and he conveniently keeps forgetting that we are together. Not to mention he’s the one who has been sending you Godiva chocolates_ —”

“ _But I never received any_.” Superman had exclaimed, regarding Bruce.

“ _That’s because I throw them away_.”

Frowning at the potential waste of mouth-watering chocolate, he inquired. “ _And by ‘throw them away’ you mean_ —”

“ _Pass them off to someone who prefers them_.”

“ _I do_.”

“ _Not when they’re from anyone else_.”

Superman had snuggled against him. “ _And you say you’re not jealous_.”

That had been the first night that Bruce entered Clark, asserting his dominance over. And over. And over.

“As heartwarming as this is, sirs, I present you with your breakfast" Alfred then handed Bruce two newspapers. "As well as the Gotham Gazette and the Daily Planet. The main articles are something that should be perused. Please enjoy.” He spoke as professional as ever, yet his eyes twinkled as he left the room.

Bruce broke the kiss, unfolding the papers so they could view the headlines _Bruce Wayne’s New Flame Hasn’t Burned Out_ and _Prince of Gotham's Romantic Cruise_. He read Clark like an open book as he viewed the pictures of them. He admitted to himself that it was sometimes hard to come to terms with his attraction, but it was nowhere near as overwhelming as before.

After being splashed on every media network the morning after he dined with Barry, he’d dreaded the coming day. He expected open jeers and harmful whispers. He still heard some but he had been majorly barraged with adulation and envy. Lois, of course, wanted to know _everything_ about the two of them.

Yet what had occurred led him to make a life-changing decision: he walked into Perry White’s office and turned in his resignation. He couldn’t venture into a rich man’s soiree and write about his attendees. Nor could he bring more shame onto Bruce. It was much simpler this way: he’d be Superman full time until he found another career. He had enough saved to live comfortably for a few years and he could become a social activist, blogging about injustices around the world. A Super Blogger.

Lois had tearfully watched him clean out his desk as he told her his decision, believing that he was making a rash decision. And perhaps he was. But his plan excluded ridicule from others—besides those reading his soon to be blog—and he’d have close ties with those he networked in the period of his journalistic career. He carefully avoided any thoughts of Bruce—thinking that he would withdraw after being outed as Clark was soon to do.

It surprised him when he entered his sparse apartment to find the business tycoon staring out his living room window.

“ _You quit the Daily Planet_.” He said in greeting. There was something about his tone that was…off.

Clark had prepared for the worst, setting down his box. “ _Um, yeah. It just…I couldn’t do it._ ”

“ _Were they taunting you_?”

“ _No. No. Well…some, when they thought I couldn’t hear. But that’s not the reason._ ” He added quickly as Bruce faced him. “ _Lois writes all the Superman stories because I couldn’t ethically write about myself. I write—er, wrote—about corruption among the elite and plaguing world issues. I’m not going to be taken seriously since I had a, uh, apparent dalliance with Bruce Wayne_.” He shuffled his feet at the growing frown. “ _Not to mention that I compromised you_.”

“ _I told you that I wanted to settle down_.”

“ _Yeah. But I doubt that what happened was the way you wanted to tell the world._ ” He peeked at him.

His heart thudded as the man simply shrugged. “ _No offense, Clark, but reporters are like vultures, hovering over any potential source that would make a good article. I don’t control the media though there are plenty of times that money does. It’s why I prefer honest morally uncorrupt journalists_.” A smirk slipped through as he made his way towards him. “ _Unfortunately, I don’t know of any since the one I did know is now unemployed_.”

Clark had gauged Bruce carefully, wondering what the hell happened to the Bruce of months ago that would have strangled someone for blasting a hole in his immaculate plan for Bruce Wayne and Batman. “ _Well, technically, I guess. But I think I’m going to become a social advocacy blogger_.”

“ _You_ think.”

“ _I_ know.”

The smile grew. “ _So your apartment here is not necessary_?”

“ _Of course it is. Where else would I live?”_

_“Wayne Manor. What better way to weed out corruption than with plenty of power and money at your back?”_

Clark had captured his mouth then as he did now, Bruce throwing the newspapers to the side. Reality had crashed down around him—Bruce supported his choices. Bruce was asking him to move in with him. Bruce was intent on being _with him_. With Bruce at his side, what other people thought or felt about him or Superman didn’t matter.

He could never be more elated, he had thought. Fortunately, he had been so very wrong.

Clark wouldn’t have broken the kiss if the smell from the uncovered food hadn’t attacked him. His eyes widened at the array of food: Belgian waffles and French toast heaped with strawberries, blueberries, whipped cream, and drenched in syrup. Hickory smoked bacon. Tomato toast with macadamia ricotta. Egg breakfast muffins topped with peppers, onions, and tomatoes. So…delicious…

Forgetting Bruce was atop him, he began to move until a quick thrust brought him back to the present. His eyes flicked towards a cruelly smiling Bruce, pleasure overtaking him.

“You have a choice.” He grated, savoring the look of apprehension on Clark. “You can eat Alfred’s fantastic breakfast while I wash up in which we don’t have sex until after the day is done. Or you can have me and a cold breakfast afterwards.”

Horror graced his features. “But Bru _ah_!” Another lunge forward.

“Choose. Or I’ll do it for you if it’s too difficult.”

Clark forlornly looked upon the steaming breakfast. Some of them could be eaten cold, but he _really_ didn’t want soggy toast. And his dessert was always warm and tasty, decadent flavors on his tongue for hours afterward when they would simply be replaced.

Tearing his eyes away, he wrapped his arms around Bruce, clasping his shoulders. As Bruce moved into him, his head fell back against the pillow.

Breakfast be damned. He’d take confections any day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finito! I've been thinking about a possible foursome with these beauts. I have it mapped out...I just need to write it..lol. I hope you enjoyed. :)
> 
> If anyone's wondering, this fic was brought about by the song Distraction by Kehlani. Lately, songs have given me inspiration for graphic material.
> 
> I do not complain.


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